


Miss, Ah, Harnett

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Stories from the Cupboard [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Romance, Educators, F/M, First Love, Small Town America, Small Towns, Teachers, Teaching, romance and angst, school teachers, small town life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 161,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9602036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: Jean Harnett begins her first year as a high school teacher in a small town in the Upper Midwest.





	1. September

**Author's Note:**

> ...............................................................….TO SHARON,
> 
> .............................................……..who would have enjoyed teaching
> 
> ................................................................at Woodstock High
> 
> ..................................................................…...and
> 
> ...............................................................…..TO GARY,
> 
> .................................................................….who did

Jean Harnett patted her short butterscotch hair and chewed nervously at her lip as she gazed at the name on the door before her: ROBERT E. CRAMER, PRINCIPAL. She felt like a misbehaving child herself instead of a teacher reporting for her first job.

She raised her gloved fist and rapped sharply.

“Come in,” a masculine voice called.

Jean jumped. Come on now, she told herself. He’s just a teacher like you are. He won’t bite.

She breathed deeply and turned the doorknob.

“Good morning,” the unsmiling man behind the desk said. “May I help you?”

Jean glanced at his horn-rimmed glasses and his thinning hair. Surely, he wasn’t as old as he looked.

“Y-yes, I’m Jean Harnett from Canton. I’m your new English teacher.”

“Oh, yes, Miss Harnett,” the principal said, rising, but still unsmiling. “Won’t you have a chair?”

“Thank you.” She settled on the hard wooden chair and felt the principal’s eyes appraising her. How thankful she was that she’d worn the jacket dress in the shade of blue that matched her eyes so well! Mother had said that it would be a good choice.

“I’ve been expecting you, Miss Harnett,” Mr. Cramer said as if he were reporting something more serious to her. “Mr. Adair said that you’d signed a contract and that we might be expecting you sometime today. Have you gotten a look at our school?”

“Only what I saw when I came down the corridor just now. I’ve seen the English room, of course, and Mr. Adair’s office. I got to look at them when I interviewed for the job on Thursday.”

“I’m sorry I missed you last week. I was conducting my physics class and couldn’t get away.”

“That’s what Mr. Adair said. You’re a part time principal as well as the full time science teacher, I understand. That must spread you out pretty thinly.”

“It does. But I have the hours in education to meet the state qualifications for the position of principal, and I am saving the school some money by doing both jobs.” He gave her what he obviously considered a crafty smile. “I’m not all that noble, or that much of a workaholic. I have an ulterior motive. This is my alma mater, you know.”

“No, I didn’t. I could have done the same thing, also, I expect. But I wanted to try my wings in a new town, so here I am,” she said with a deep, but nervous breath. He wasn't doing a whole lot to put her at ease, and it was showing on her.

“That is commendable," he said in his best patronizing voice. "I hope that your career here at Woodstock is a good experience for you. I realize we have only a small facility. The elementary and high school are all in one building.”

“Oh, that’s the type of school I wanted to be associated with!” she said enthusiastically. Then, she hasted to correct her grammatical mistake. She was, after all, here to teach English. Her speech should not be sloppy. “I mean, the type of school with which I wish to be associated. I come from a small town myself, and I would rather start my career in familiar surroundings.”

“That’s understandable. I think you’ll like our little town, Miss Harnett.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will!” she said with a bright smile.

“Have you spoken with Mr. Adair today?”

“No, I stopped by the superintendent’s office, but his secretary said he was out.”

Cramer pursed his lips slightly and then started talking in what seemed to be a well rehearsed speech. “Our high school has ninety-eight students and ten teachers. Until last week we had eleven teachers, but Mrs. Phillips quit for health reasons. She was our English teacher. As of now, our students are sitting in study hall, missing their regular grammar lessons. It’s a situation that needs to be remedied as quickly as possible. Of course, Mr. Adair and I had no idea that we would have to replace a teacher so early in the school year.” He favored her with a tight-lipped grin. “We are very happy that we were able to obtain your services.”

Why did she have the vague feeling that he was being patronizing? “Thank you,” she managed to say.

“Have you found an apartment yet?”

“No. I’m with my folks and--”

“Your parents came with you?”

“I don’t drive. I never had to drive in Canton, you see. We walk everywhere there. And it was the same when I went to State.” She shrugged. “I just never learned to drive.”

“Never learned to drive--” he mused to himself, then seemed to remember that he was not alone. “You say that you haven’t found an apartment yet, right?”

“I thought you might know of something that’s available.”

“Our Miss Bergetti has told me that she might be willing to share her apartment. You’ll find her in the teachers’ lounge downstairs.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cramer.” She started to rise.

“Oh, there is something else.”

She settled back into the chair. “Yes?”

“It’s none of my business, but maybe you can satisfy my curiosity.”

“How is that, Mr. Cramer?”

“Mr. Adair said that you were also considering a position at New Castle. Just what did we here at Woodstock have to offer that New Castle did not? After all, New Castle has a larger population, the stores have a broader selection, and it’s closer to your hometown. What attracted you to Woodstock?”

Jean grinned. “Have you read much of Sir Walter Scott?”

“Scott? Let’s see, Lady of the Lake, Ivanhoe-- A little, I suppose. I do not care for fictional works that much. Why?”

Her grin broadened. “I happen to be a horrible romanticist, Mr. Cramer. Scott is a favorite author of mine, and one of his novels is entitled ‘Woodstock.’ It’s about the English Civil War, and I have always admired it greatly. And then when I saw the name of this town, how could I look further?”

Cramer blinked. “You chose a teaching position on the basis of the name of the town, a name that reminded you of a novel that you had once read?!”

“Of course,” she answered brightly. “Why not?”

“Why not, indeed.” He sat in deep thought.

She leaned forward, as if revealing a confidence. “I took it as a good omen.”

He frowned in concentration. “A good omen. Yes. Hmm.”

“Was that all?” she asked as she stood again.

“Yes,” he said absently. “Ah, glad to have you with us,” he said as if suddenly remembering that he should respond with something.

But, even as Jean left his office, she could feel Cramer following her with a puzzled look.

“Excuse me,” Jean said as she stopped a man in work clothing a few minutes later in the hallway. “Can you tell me where the teachers’ lounge is? Mr. Cramer said it was downstairs, but I seem to be hopelessly lost.”

The wiry little man grinned and set aside his broom. “Follow me.”

Jean’s gratitude was apparent in her smile. “I’m Jean Harnett, the new English teacher.”

“And I’m Chet Monroe, the janitor.”

And one of the most important persons in the school, Jean thought. It’s always best to be on the good side of the janitor.

“I hate to tear you away from your work.”

“My pleasure. Any time that you feel like doing it, tear away. It won’t hurt my feelings a bit. Besides, I was looking for an excuse to get a cup of coffee.”

They wound around two more corners in a building that seemed like a maze.

Jean grinned. “Should I be leaving a trail of bread crumbs so I can find my way back out?”

Chet grinned, also. “There’s been so many additions and modifications to this old school that I wouldn’t be surprised if we had doors that led nowhere. Anybody can get lost in these halls. But, don’t worry. Before long, you’ll know your way around here like an old pro. That’s the science room,” Chet said as he pointed at a door. “That’s where Mr. Cramer teaches. And that’s the Home Ec. room. Rose Paget teaches in there, and she’s a real nice gal. You’ll like her.”

Chet opened a door nearly hidden in a dark corner and stepped aside so Jean could walk into a small, smoke-filled room with no windows. “This is the faculty lounge.”

“My goodness, Chet,” twittered a small birdlike woman. “What did you find in the hall?”

“This is the new English teacher, Miss Clapsattle.”

Jean relaxed. This wasn’t the teacher that Cramer had picked out to be her roommate.

“Miss Harnett, isn’t it? So glad to have you in our school.” She stamped out her cigarette in a plastic ashtray. “Well, I have to be going now. Never know what those little darlings are doing with my typewriters. Toodle-oo!” She fluttered out of the room.

Jean glanced at Chet and he rolled his eyes. “Miss Clapsattle has been with the school for a long time.”

A very long time, Jean suspected. She’d probably been Mr. Cramer’s teacher. It was difficult to think of him as ever being a student, though, let alone young.

A young woman with long russet hair and dressed in a gypsy print of yellow and green splashes passed Jean and Chet and fanned her way through the smoke in the lounge. “My gosh, Landis, are you on fire?”

Jean glanced around. She hadn’t been aware of anyone else's presence.

The young woman’s gold bracelets clanged as she snapped on the overhead light, and Jean saw a man slumped on a battered sofa in a far corner of the smoky room.

“Asleep again, isn’t he, Chet?”

“I am not asleep,” the man in the far corner answered without opening his eyes behind his glasses. “I am merely taking a break from those damn kids, woman.”

The red-haired woman finally saw Jean and smiled. “Hi, there. Are you visiting?”

“No, I’m Jean Harnett, the new English teacher.”

The man in the corner opened his eyes and turned their watery blueness on the women.

“I’m Zoë Bergetti,” the russet haired lady explained, then pointed toward the man with the smoke cloud around him. “And that’s Brian Landis. He teaches Industrial Arts and Drivers Ed.”

“And Flame Hair here teaches Art and French. Ever hear of a combination like that?”

“In a small school, you’ll find strange combinations, Landis,” Zoe said as she lit a cigarette. “You know that.”

“Yeah. That’s what drew me here. That, and knowing that I’d have such charming colleagues.”

“Don’t pay any attention to him, Jean. He’s a pessimist.”

“I’m a Catholic,” Landis retaliated. “Non-practicing, that is.”

“Don’t you have some Freshmen somewhere that you have to scare silly?”

“Nope, they’re all quaking in their boots already. They knew if they don’t get me, you’ll show up. How can they win with those choices?”

Zoe Bergetti chose to ignore Brian Landis and turned to Jean. “Do you drink coffee? I can’t stand the stuff myself, but there’s the pot if you’re so inclined.”

“Maybe later. Mr. Cramer said you might like to share your apartment.”

“Yes. There’s two single beds and I have cooking privileges. And I share the bathroom with Mrs. D.”

“Mrs. D.?”

“Iris Doubleday, the landlady. She’s a sweet old lady and very motherly, if you like that type.”

“Oh, I do!”

“Good.”

“All this domesticity is making me ill,” Brian Landis complained. He shuffled toward the door without straightening the wrinkles in his dowdy sports coat. He paused in front of Jean and his watery eyes looked at her again. “Well, as Jimmy Adair, our nautical superintendent, would say, ‘Glad to have you aboard!’ See you around campus, Harnett.” He shuffled off.

“Well, you should feel honored, Jean. Landis seems to like you.” 

“I think I know the type. He likes to make people think that he’s an old curmudgeon. Maybe all he needs is the honey treatment. You know, treat him sweetly.“

Zoë laughed as she ground out her cigarette. “That would startle him, that’s for sure. But enough about him. I’ll call Mrs. D. and let her know you’re coming. Her house is four blocks north of here. I hope you like Woodstock.”

Jean smiled. “I think I will, Zoe.”

“Good.” Zoe glanced at her watch. “Gotta run. See you later.”

“Thanks. Bye.” Jean looked around the empty faculty lounge. The light bulbs were dim. The furniture looked shabby and almost broken. Corners were veiled in shadows that probably rarely saw light. Yet she smiled in satisfaction. There was a comfortable feeling in this room. Already she felt at home.

 

“Come in. Come in, my dear.” The little woman hustled Jean into the small living room. “Zoe called that you were on your way. I do hope that you enjoy living in my rooms. It’ll seem like I’ve got my two daughters back under my roof again.”

Jean like the bright eyes of the cheerful, petite woman who took her on face value. Jean’s parents helped her haul her clothing and books into the house. He mother and Mrs. D. took an immediate liking for each other.

“Will you be all right here, Pumpkin?” her father wanted to know as they stood by the old brown station wagon that had been the family’s transportation for years.

Jean smiled bravely. “Sure, Daddy. It’s a big adventure. It’s what I prepared for these last four years.”

“We’re only a phone call away,” Frank Harnett reminded her. “Don’t feel like you’re being abandoned. You can always locate closer to home. But give yourself a chance here. You may surprise yourself.”

Jean nodded and turned to watch her mother and Mrs. D. walking arm-in-arm from the house.

“I’m sure Jean will be happy here, Iris.”

“I’ll do everything I can to help her, Louise.” She withdrew her arm and stepped aside. “Nice meeting you, dear. You, too, Frank. Jean, I’ll have some coffee and cookies waiting when you get back inside.”

Jean turned to her parents. “Looks like this is it, gang.” But the separation wasn’t bothering her because she was so excited about the future.

Louise Harriet’s eyes were glowing. “Oh, Jean, I think you really made the best choice in coming here to teach. The people seem so nice.”

“Everything will be fine as soon as I get a routine established and stop being the new kid on the block.”

“That’s why you’ll probably want to stay here this first weekend,” her father said.

“I think so, too, Daddy. It’ll give me a chance to settle in and see what kind of activities the town has to offer.”

“Church is always a good place to start, Jean. Remember that.”

“I will, Mama.”

After her parents left, Jean went back into the house and talked to Mrs. D. until Zoe got home from school. Then Zoe drove the three of them down to the cafe on Main Street for hamburgers and malts.

Woodstock was a much smaller town than Jean’s hometown. Canton’s population outstripped it by more than twenty-five to one, but Woodstock more than made up for its size in heart. Friendly people stopped at their table at the cafe and introduced themselves until Jean was dizzy with all the names.

“I’ll never remember them all!” Jean declared and rolled her eyes.

“They’ll give you time, dear,” Mrs. Doubleday said. “All they ask is for you to give them a chance.”

“That’s all I’m asking of them, too,” Jean replied.

“They are a friendly lot,” Zoe conceded. “I’ll admit when I came here last year, I was pretty skeptical of them. I’m a city gal, from Wyoming, and wasn’t too receptive to rural ways.”

“She got over that,” Mrs. Doubleday said with a beaming face. “She joined the bowling team and the Lionelles and everything!”

“Well, it was something to do,” Zoe mumbled.

Jean could tell, though, that Zoe was proud of her affiliations and the fact that she had been accepted by the town. She idly wondered if Zoe had much life beyond the Woodstock city limits.

 

Two blocks west of Main, hang a right, drive a long block north, cross railroad tracks, and turn into Mrs. Doubleday’s driveway. Turn halfway around to face south, walk four blocks, and find yourself the school with the statue of the Civil War soldier in front of it. Look west of the schoolhouse one quarter of a mile to the first crossroads and see the grain bins where the students drove each afternoon after school in a ritual that’d gone on for generations. These would become the boundaries of Jean’s world during the upcoming school year.

 

The first few days of classes and study hall had passed quietly. The students didn’t know what to expect from Jean so they were wary and gave her an unearned sense of control. By the second week, though, some of the boys were testing her.

“You have to sit on them hard at first, and then you can relax,” Zoe advised.

Jean remembered similar instructions from her student teaching days. She thought little of it, though, until Robert Cramer asked her one day, “How’s your discipline? Remember that the punishment should fit the crime.”

Jean knew from that statement that word had spread to the administration. She cracked down and luckily she caught the situation in time. She’d heard horror stories of beginning teachers getting drummed out of the profession because they lacked control in the classroom.

One of the worst offenders was Jeff Woods, a Junior in her study hall. One day he decided to pick up the unabridged dictionary and carry it around. Jean feared for the safety of the spine of the awkward book.

“Jeff, put down the dictionary, please, before you hurt it.”

He didn’t comply and continued to tote the heavy tome around the room. Finally, he started to set it down, and Jean had an inspiration.

“Jeff, since you like holding that dictionary so well, suppose you hold it awhile longer.”

“But it’s heavy!”

“You should have thought about that before you picked it up. Of course, you can always go down to the office and explain to Mr. Cramer why you didn’t do as I asked.”

“How long do I need to stand here?”

“I’ll tell you when to quit.”

The other study hall students tittered, but quieted in this test of wills. Students returned to their textbooks.

After five minutes, Jeff said, “Can I put it down now?”

Jean shook her head.

A moment later, Robert Cramer stuck his head inside the study hall door. He searched the students for someone, then his attention rested on the boy obediently holding the large dictionary. Cramer studied him a moment, glanced at Jean, then turned and left.

A few minutes later, Jeff gave Jean a pleading look, and she nodded. He set down the book and returned to his desk where he sat in silence. Jean knew she would not have anymore trouble with him.

That afternoon Jean stood outside her classroom door watching students pass between classes when she felt someone glide up behind her. She turned and found Robert Cramer standing beside her. He handed her an envelope.

“This letter for you got mixed up with my mail.”

“Thank you,” she said, fully aware that he could’ve simply transferred it to her mailbox.

“Ah, I see that Jeff Woods was testing the endurance of his strength in study hall this morning. He should be able to pass the football further now. You’ll have to share that new exercise with the coaching staff.”

She glanced up and saw that his eyes were twinkling.

“The punishment fitted the crime, Mr. Cramer.”

Cramer grinned. “I thought so. It was exactly the right touch. The students shouldn’t ridicule Jeff too much, yet they see that you are serious. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled. 

He moved away toward his office, and Jean stepped into her filled classroom. She felt slightly numbed by his praise. She knew when the numbness left, she would feel buoyant. Her administrator approved of her! At last, she felt like she was in solid at Woodstock.

 

“I heard about the dictionary exercises that Jeff Woods was performing in your study hall yesterday,” Craig Martin said with a grin. “I also heard you even got Cramer’s congratulations on the situation.” He forked a French fry off his plate as he sat beside Jean at the teachers’ table in the school cafeteria.

“My, news does travel fast around here,” she murmured as she took a bit of her chili dog and tried to drown out the clamoring of the eating students behind her.

Craig grinned. “Chet Monroe saw Jeff AND Mr. Cramer.”

“Good old Chet. I knew right away that he had a finger on the pulse of this school. Every janitor I’ve ever heard about has had that ability.”

“Chet likes you, too. He says that you pretty up the place. I agree.”

Jean arched an eyebrow at him. “I like that pretty talk, mister. Keep it up.”

He grinned. “I intend to.”

Jean liked Craig Martin, girls’ basketball coach and history teacher who was just starting his third year at Woodstock. Even though they’d struck up an immediate interest in each other when they’d met, they seemed more like pals than anything else. Oh, well, Jean thought, friendship sometimes turns into something else.

She even remembered the first thing that Craig had ever said to her: “You’re from Canton? I have an aunt who lives there. I’ll give you a lift home sometime, and I’ll visit my aunt. We’ll kill two birds with one stone.”

Zoe found a place to sit on the other side of Craig. “Hello, you two. Is the dinner worth showing up for?”

“Not unless you enjoy a good attack of gas,” someone muttered on the other side of the table.

“Shut up, Landis,” Zoe growled. “Who asked for your opinion, anyway?”

Jean nearly choked on her half-eaten bite of hotdog. She’d forgotten that Brian Landis was seated across from them. He’d been non-communicative until Zoe appeared.

“Just thought I’d save you some misery. And your students some foul air,” Brian mumbled as he pulled himself up from the table and shuffled away.

“Oh-h-h, that man!” Zoe muttered.

Jean grinned. She thought Brian was kind of cute, in a gruff kind of way. But then, she tried to find good in everybody, even a seeming outcast such as Brian Landis. He was going to require further study by her.

 

“This has been a great idea to surprise my parents, Craig. They think I’m going to spend the weekend in Woodstock.”

“My pleasure, Jean. This way I can have some company on a long drive, and my aunt will be thrilled to see me.” He craned his neck. “Which house is yours?”

“The white one on the corner. The two story Cape Cod. This is service. Right at my doorstep. Why don’t you come in and meet my folks?”

“Well, sure. We’re early. And my aunt isn’t expecting me for awhile. If you’re sure your folks don’t mind.”

“Mind?” Jean echoed as they walked up the cement steps. “This place was a regular hangout when I was in high school. My mother insisted on it. Then she knew where Brenna and I were.”

“Brenna?” Craig asked as Jean opened the front door.

“My sister. She works for a lawyer here in Canton. She attended a secretarial school instead of going to college and came back home to work. Mom?! Are you here?! Funny, she should’ve come popping out of the kitchen by now.”

As if on a signal, a door swung open and a golden fur ball bolted at Jean.

“Flipper!” Jean wrestled with the growling creature. “How are you, boy?! Did you miss me?” She looked up at Craig. “This is Flipper, our rat terrier. He’s just a pup.”

“A pup? He looks older than a pup.”

Jean shielded her mouth with her hand and said in a stage whisper. “S-h-h! He THINKS he is.”

Craig smiled at the ugly creature grinning up at him, its tongue lolling. “I wasn’t sure if it was a dog or a cat, or a golden rat.”

Jean acted insulted. “He HAS a pedigree, you know. His mother was a terrier, ah, well, pretty much terrier.”

Craig twisted his head as he studied the dog. “Rat terrier, you say? Looks like he’s got some sheep dog mixed in there, too.”

“We’re not too sure about his male ancestors. We think some of the females on his family tree weren’t too discreet.” She ruffled Flipper’s ears. “But we don’t care. We love him anyway.”

“Jean?” a new voice said. “I didn’t know you were home already.“ She stopped when she saw Craig. “Oh, we have company.”

Jean and Craig looked at the young woman with the dark page boy hairdo.

“I’m glad you’re not by yourself, Jean,” the new arrival continued. “When I heard two voices, I thought that Flipper had suddenly learned to talk.”

“Brenna! You’re home.”

“I always am at this time of the afternoon. I just got changed and was on my way downstairs when I heard voices. The question is, how did you get here so fast?”

“So fast? Why, I hitched a ride to surprise the folks.”

Brenna folded her arms across her chest. “You will. They decided to surprise you. They should be in Woodstock by now. You probably met them on the road.”

Jean began to laugh. “Oh, my gosh!”

Craig looked at the sisters. “Is there a problem?”

“Nothing that’ll surprise our parents,” Brenna answered with a bored look on her face. “Sorry that she’s designated you as her new partner in crime.”

Craig grinned. “I’m not complaining. I haven’t been bored yet this afternoon.”

“Brenna, this is Craig Martin. He teaches at Woodstock, too. And his aunt is Cora Fanning.”

“Cora plays bingo with our mother every Tuesday afternoon.”

“That’s what I told Craig.”

“Come into the kitchen and have a glass of milk, Mr. Martin. Jean will never get around to inviting you.”

“Craig, please,” he requested as he followed Brenna and Flipper through the swinging door.

Brenna glanced back over her shoulder as she made sure he caught the door without getting hit by it. Her second look at Craig showed her a tall, good looking man with a friendly smile. Why hadn’t she seen that at first? For a moment, she regretted the blue jeans and over-sized white shirt that she wore. Oh, well, better that he saw the real her.

 

“I was just going to start a pizza for supper,” Brenna explained as she handed a glass to Craig. “It’s Jean’s favorite meal. Sort of a welcome home treat. We make the pizza from scratch. It tastes better than that cardboard stuff we buy at the grocery store.”

“I agree,” Craig said with a big grin. He reached down and scratched the ear of the happy dog bracing against his leg. “My mother says the same thing. She gets a lot of practice cooking. There were seven kids in our family.”

“That must take a lot of groceries to feed that many.”

“Our dad owns a grocery store.”

Brenna studied him. “How lucky.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“What was your first clue? My skeptical tone?”

“I’ll prove it.” He dug out his wallet. “This is my brother Kent and his flock. And Joyce and her three. And Phil,” he said as he flipped pictures. “And Ed. And Shirley. And--”

“Stop! You’ve proved your point.”

“I was just going to say that Lisa wasn’t married yet. Neither am I.”

“I’m glad.”

“Why? Are you interested in me?”

“Well, otherwise my sister would be running around with a married man.” She handed him some cheese. “Here. Make yourself useful. Shred this cheese.”

“I better wash my hands first. I’ve been petting Flipper.”

“Use the dish washing liquid on the sink.”

“By the way, how did he get a name like Flipper?” Craig asked as he lathered.

“When he was a pup, he did back flips.”

“I had to ask,” Craig muttered to himself.

“What?” Brenna asked as she shoved a strand of hair out of her face and left a streak of flour in her dark page boy.

“Huh?” Craig looked up, saw Brenna’s face and face sprinkled with flour, and zap! He had often heard of love at first sight, but he suddenly realized it could happen at second glance.

“I said--” Brenna looked at him. He seemed so familiar, so well known. “I don’t know what I said.”

“Me, neither,” Craig answered woodenly.

Jean bombed in the door. “Well, I got settled in. How long has Mom had those lavender towels in the bathroom?” she asked as she grabbed a saltine cracker.

It suddenly occurred to both Brenna and Craig that Jean had not followed them into the kitchen. Neither of them had missed her until the moment she came into the kitchen.

Craig shuffled toward the swinging door. “Well, I, ah, suppose I, ah, should be going. My aunt will be wondering where I am.”

“You could call her. Tell her where you are,” Brenna suggested. “You could say that you’ll be late.”

Jean frowned. Brenna sounded breathless.

“I could. After all, I don’t have the cheese shredded yet.”

Jean frowned at Craig. He seemed to be having difficulty breathing, too. What was wrong with them? And what was all this talk about shredding cheese?

“Some people say it’s too warm outside to eat pizza,” Brenna said in a monotone voice. “That’s never stopped us.”

“I love pizza,” Craig reassured her in an equally deadpan voice. “Any time of the year.”

Jean sighed and shook her head. Brenna and Craig were both acting like a couple of love-sick calves.

“The phone’s over there by the door,” Jean said.

Craig stared at her. “Phone?”

“Yes. In case you want to call your aunt.” She stopped herself from saying, ‘Remember?’

Craig grinned. “Oh, yes, I do. Want to call. My aunt.”

Honestly, Jean thought and stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

 

When Louise and Frank Harnett arrived later, they were surprised to find Craig firmly established in the kitchen.

“Suppose you tell me all about yourself, young man,” Louise said as she took his arm and led him toward the living room. “My daughters can finish supper. Don’t forget the salad, girls,” she said over her shoulder.

“Yes, Mother,” Jean answered and gave her father a knowing look. Louise could charm anybody.

Frank Harnett grinned at Jean. “That’s the second young man your mother has amazed this afternoon.”

“Who was the first, Daddy?” Jean asked as she sampled the cheese that Craig had finally finished shredding.

“Your principal. Robert Cramer. Isn’t that his name?”

Jean nearly choked on the cheese. “You met Mr. Cramer?”

Frank grinned again. “He found us wandering around inside the schoolhouse. Your mother insisted she could find your classroom by your description. And she tried, I have to give her that. But that old schoolhouse has been remodeled so many times, it’s nothing but a maze of hallways. But your mother didn’t give up. I think she was even in the boys’ bathroom.”

“Oh, dear! Oh, no!” Jean was struck first by humor, then by horror. “That’s not where she found Mr. Cramer, was it? Tell me it isn’t true!” 

“It isn’t true.”

“Whew! I’d have to resign.”

“You might yet. Your mother and Mr. Cramer came face to face around a corner of the hall. He said ‘Miss, ah, Harnett?’ and she said ‘Mrs.,’ and they were both confused. Luckily I rescued them.” He frowned in thought. He’s a pretty serious young man, isn’t he?”

“Funny. I rarely think of him as young.”

“He can’t be much older than you. Maybe a couple of years, at the most. He and Craig might be about the same age. Anyway, your mother grabbed his arm and requested a tour of the building, talking a mile a minute.”

“She-- What?! You’re right. I may have to resign.”

Frank looked indulgent. “I think she charmed him. You know your mother. Nobody says ‘no’ to her. At least, no man she’s ever met. Speaking of men, are you going to see Ronnie this weekend?”

Jean toyed with a mixing bowl. “I might.”

“He seems pretty lonesome without you, honey.”

“I know.” She shoved the bowl away. “He wants to settle down, and I’m not ready.”

“Then you should break up with him,” Frank said gently. “It’d be kinder to him.”

“I know. But I’m not ready to do that, either.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe I could call Ron and talk for awhile. He might even be able to go up to the lake tomorrow afternoon and stay for the wiener roast.”

“That’d be real nice, honey.”

She tilted her head. “Where did you get to be so wise?”

Frank chuckled. “With two daughters?! Wisdom is the only defense I’ve got!”

 

Jean lay in the grass at the edge of the lake. Her red swimming suit was nearly dry. “It’s wonderful to feel the sun on my back. And these ants are really busy.”

“They know something we don’t want to accept,” the man lounging at her side said. “Winter is coming soon.” He squinted as he looked out over the sparkling lake. “Each day like this one is a gift.”

Jean raised her head and looked out at the water, too. It was still warm. “I love the lake in late summer. It’s surrounded by a world of nature that’s come into the fullness of its maturity.”

“I thought you liked Indian summer the best.”

“That’s because I can visualize the Indians that used to live around here. With the oak trees and the occasional deer to be spotted, it seems that the Indians will appear at any moment.”

“It’s just a lake in the woods. Your folks’ cabin is the only thing just out of sight. The Indians have been gone from this area for decades, unless they’re lost in someone’s bloodline. The interstate is eight miles away, not an Army fort that was built to protect the scattered settlers.”

“You have no romance in your heart, Ron,” she said, looking up at him and wrinkling her nose.

“I have plenty of romance in me, Jean, and it’s all for you.”

She sighed. “I know. And you have the patience of a saint with me. How do you put up with me?”

“I want you to have your chance at tackling the world. I wouldn’t want you to be always wondering what your life would’ve been like if you’d gotten away from Canton. Mother never did, and she has never let my father forget it.”

“I wouldn’t nag you, Ron.”

“Maybe not, but you’d let it fester in your heart and gnaw away at you. I think I’d hate that worse than the way my mother is. So, how do you like your school by now?”

“Okay, so far. The town is awfully small, and everybody seems to be related to everyone else. It’s a close knit place, and they really support the school, from what I understand.”

“Have you made any friends? Why should I ask that? Of course, you have. You make friends so easily.”

Jean smiled. “My roommate Zoe is a few years older than me and teaches art. I think we’re going to get along great. And our landlady, Mrs. D., is a dream!”

“Mrs. D.?”

“Mrs. Doubleday. Mrs. D. is easier to say. Oh, and Craig you’ve met.”

“He and Brenna seem to have hit it off.”

“I’m glad. Craig and I got along fine right from the start. We felt comfortable with each other right away.”

“I think I’m glad he met Brenna.”

Jean laughed. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.” She touched his hand. “Don’t worry, Ron. I haven’t met anyone in Woodstock who interests me. You’re still my guy.”

“I bet there’s other single men you’re around.”

“Oh, there’s Brian. He’s quirky. I don’t quite know the story on him yet. He’s probably in his early thirties, but he likes to act a lot older and bored with the world. He gives pessimism a bad name. But I think it’s all a front to hide a broken heart.”

“Or he just might be a sour guy who’s down on the world. I think I’d stay away from him.”

Jean grinned. “Why?”

“You don’t see the harm in some people, do you? The guy might make you melancholy, too.”

“And I might be able to help him,” she said gently.

“There you go, taking in strays again!”

She squeezed his hand, then withdrew it. “It’s my nature.”

“I know. Your father warned me. You and your mother are cut from the same cloth.”

“Daddy never seemed to mind.”

“He told me that, too.” Ron sighed. “Oh, well, I guess I could get used to it.”

“You might even get to liking the orphan cats and crippled birds that I collect.”

“I won’t mind how many strays you drag home, just so I have the chance to share your life.”

“You’re one in a million, Ron. Thanks for giving me this year.”

“I’ll be down at the garage when, and if, you decide to come home for good.”

“I heard that you’ve put a down payment on the Clement house and acreage.”

“I can’t live with my folks forever. I have to think of my future, in case you’re not going to be a part of it. With the acre of ground that goes with the place, you’d have a lot of room for your strays. And the place could always be traded for one you liked better.”

“But I like the Clement place. And I’m glad you’re getting settled.”

“If possible, I’ll spend the rest of my life in Canton, working at the garage. Maybe that doesn’t sound too ambitious, but I want you to know my intentions.”

“It sounds like you’re building the foundations for a life. I’m happy that you’ve found contentment. Some people have to go out and try their wings a little.”

“Some people, like you.”

“Yes, Ron, some people like me.”

“There’s a car. Is it Craig and Brenna coming back?”

“More than likely, it’s Uncle Ted and Aunt Margo.”

“I didn’t know she’d be here tonight. Is she bringing the fire for the wiener roast in her voice? Or maybe we can use her tongue to hold the wieners on while they cook.”

“Ronnie! That’s scandalous.”

“You can’t tell me that you honestly like that woman.”

“She’s Daddy’s sister-in-law, so we tolerate her. She’s got some awfully sweet children.”

“They must’ve taken after their father.”

“Probably.” Jean pulled herself to her feet. “Come on, let’s go to the cabin. I may have to rescue my mother. Aunt Margo is a little easier to take in a crowd.”

They walked up the hill toward the trees.

“Do we really have to go back to a crowd?” Ron asked wistfully. “I’d rather stay here and watch the sun go down with you.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Among other things. And sometimes it’s merely the setting for the loveliest thing of all.”

She smiled at him. “Sometimes, Ron, that streak of poetry in you shows up like heart gold. You should let it peek out more often.”

“I can, with you. People at the garage don’t expect it, or want it. They have their idea of how a mechanic is supposed to talk, and it isn’t poetically.”

‘Well, let me tell you something, buster. That poetic streak is what got you the second look from me.” She winked at him. “And that black, curly hair helped, too.”

“Oh, you just think that I look like Elvis.”

She grinned. “Yep.”

He nodded through the trees. “It is Ted and Mrs. Harnett. She had that car down at the garage the other day. I hate it when customers know something about mechanics, especially that woman. She bosses everybody around. I don’t know how Ted puts up with her. He’s so easy going and likable.”

“That’s part of the reason she has to be so assertive, because he isn’t. They’re where they are today because of her push and drive. Uncle Ted is perfectly happy wherever he is. They’d still be barely living on his insurance salesman’s salary if he hadn’t won that election twenty-odd years ago to be county collector. His personality got him that job and keeps it for him, not his ability. The girls in the office do the work. Daddy at least had the ambition to go to pharmacy school. The brothers couldn’t all farm, especially since Uncle George as the oldest son already had taken over the home place. Now his son Phil will follow in his footsteps. Daddy’s the only one of the boys who’ve shown much initiative.”

“Is that why you weren’t ready to settle down with me? You want someone with more ambition?”

She frowned. “Could be. I just know that I’m not ready to be a housewife in my hometown. Daddy says I remind him of his aunt who runs a saloon in Alaska and races her own team of huskies. Aunt Wanda and I hear a different drummer than most women in our family, I guess.” She stepped up on the cabin’s porch. “Well, I better go inside. Daddy’s out in back building the fire. You can help him and Uncle Ted with the wiener sticks. I’ll just slap a bright smile on my face and join the ladies. I hope Aunt Margo has no ax to grind tonight, or we’ll never have any peace around the campfire.”

Ron smiled in the shadowy light of the cabin’s front porch. “Can’t tell me that the females are the weaker sex. Here, I’ll give you a kiss to fortify you.”

A few minutes later, Jean said in a husky voice, “Keep that up, mister, and I’ll forget wiener roasts, Woodstock, and my Aunt Wanda.”

“I won’t, though. I’ll keep you on the straight and narrow for your own good.”

“Party pooper!” She paused. “Even if you weren’t my guy, you’d still be a good friend.”

He took her by the shoulders and marched her firmly toward the front door. “No more procrastinating! Get in there and help your mother.”

As she opened the door, she stuck her tongue out at Ron, then winked and grinned. “Later!” she whispered. 

“I’ll be there.”

“Hi, Aunt Margo!” she greeted as she sailed into the cabin. “How are you tonight?”

A tall woman with a salt-and-pepper page boy looked up from a pan on the stove. “Jean, you better change into slacks before the mosquitoes eat you alive. And get some lotion on your skin. You shouldn’t let your face sunburn like that anymore. You’ll wrinkle.”

Jean glanced at her mother who had a look of pity and thankfulness on her face. Jean hated it when Margo was right, and Louise knew it.

“Isn’t Susan going to here tonight?” Jean asked when she reappeared later in jeans and long-sleeved shirt.

“She went to a concert with Jonathan Talbot’s cousin from Chicago,” Margo answered. “Mitchell is in law school at Purdue, and his father is a partner in a very important law firm in Chicago. You should have located nearer a city, Jean, and then you’d have more opportunities to meet young men from better families.”

“I’m meeting some nice families at Woodstock.”

“But they are so rural, my dear. The more important families are urban.”

Jean opened her mouth, but her mother spoke first.

“Help me with these beans, Jean? I never can use this opener. Your father generally does this for me.”

Margo stepped forward. “Honestly, Louise, let me do it.” And her attitude clearly said that there was no man here to impress with Louise’s helpless routine.

Jean shot her mother a look. They both knew Susan would date Jonathan’s cousin because he was nice, not because she was a social climber. They liked Susan.

Jean was also impressed with her own mother. Louise wasn’t always the flighty, little helpless creature she seemed to be. Sometimes, she had ribs of steel and a clear-eyed logic that startled people. Jean, her copycat daughter, knew that she herself was the same way.

“There, Louise, nothing to it.” She dusted her hands. “Oh, Jean, I got a letter from Terry yesterday. She’s in line for a promotion at the brokerage firm, and she‘s been there only five months. She’s recently redecorated her apartment, and she’s really enjoying living in Des Moines.”

“I’m glad to hear that she’s so well settled.”

“You could’ve been, too, by now. After all, there’s only three weeks’ difference in your ages.”

“I enjoy my life at Woodstock, Aunt Margo. Yes, I have problems, but I’m learning to cope. Oh, here’s Brenna! Where’s Craig?”

Brenna set her purse inside a cabinet. “I sent him down with the guys. Hello, Aunt Margo.”

“Is he your young man, Brenna, or Jean’s?”

“Neither. He’s a fellow teacher of Jean’s who has relatives here.”

“I thought you were stealing your sister’s boyfriends again like you used to do in school.”

“I haven’t done that since I was fifteen, Aunt Margo. Besides, Jean wouldn’t let me get by with it now.”

Louise grabbed a couple of sacks. “Would you girls like to carry this food down to the bonfire?”

“Sure, Mother. Come on, Brenna.”

Outside, the sisters clumped away from the cabin into the gathering dusk.

“I went in there to rescue Mother, and I think she just rescued us.”

“Honestly, Jean, why does Mother let Margo get by with saying that stuff?”

“Mother doesn’t like conflict, and she could tell that Aunt Margo was getting under your skin.”

“You can’t tell me that she wasn’t bothering you, too!”

“Of course, she was,” Jean answered as they packed wieners and hot-dog buns through the trees toward the sounds of men’s voices and laughter. “Mother hates fights, and so do I.”

“I’ve seen you bristle up.”

“When I thought someone else was being picked on.”

“Why not defend yourself?”

“Remember the Golden Rule?”

“Honestly, Jean, if you don’t take care of yourself, no one else will.”

“Well, that’s certainly a new interpretation of the Golden Rule. Before you get your feathers ruffled and we’re fighting, I know what you mean. As for the other, I’ve gotten along okay so far. Let’s not let Aunt Margo spoil our evening. Where did you and Craig go on your drive?”

“Out to the farm. But Uncle George and Phil were busy, so we drove around town and I pointed out the sights. I don’t think George and his family will be here tonight, because they have to work late. Aunt Sarah was interested in an evening out, but she knew she’d have to cook a late supper for the guys.”

“That goodness we haven’t fallen for farmers!”

“Craig said he’s considered taking up farming.”

“Really? He’s never mentioned that before. Does he have a farming back-  
ground?”

“He worked on various farms in high school, especially for an uncle of his. He enjoyed seeing the countryside here. Now he understands why this area has such a good reputation for being productive. He liked Canton, too.”

“Why didn’t you come back to the lake and swim with Ron and me? It was a great afternoon for it.”

“I thought that you two would want some time alone.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. We did a lot of talking.”

“Ron misses you, Jean.”

“I know, but I need this year to myself. Ron is so understanding about it.”

“Don’t take him for granted, Jean.”

“Is he looking at other girls?”

“Not that I know of. But girls are looking at him. I hear talk.”

“I don’t expect him to be a monk.”

Brenna smiled as she nodded toward the men and the bonfire. “Hear that laughter? I bet they won’t repeat the same joke to us.”

“Maybe we better talk louder and step on a few branches so they’ll hear us approaching. We have to let them think that they are protecting their women folk. Have you been shopping for the new fall colors?!” Jean asked in a loud voice.

“Oh, yes!” Brenna answered. “Ryan’s Department Store has all the new shades! Just wait until you see the forest green and cinnamon combination.”

“That would look great on you, Brenna, with your fall coloring.”

“S-h-h, guys!” Uncle Ted warned. “Women coming!”

Brenna and Jean stepped into the circle of firelight.

“Ah, here comes the food!” the burly man greeted with his jovial smile. Uncle Ted helped the girls set the supplies down, then slung a beefy arm around each girl’s shoulders. “How’s my favorite nieces?!”

Jean giggled. “Uncle Ted! We are your only nieces!”

“It’s not my fault that George and Sarah had only boys.” He released them. “Where’s your mother and Margo?”

“Right behind us, we thought,” Brenna answered, looking around.

Ted moved closer to his brother who was putting the final touches to the fire before lighting it.

“Uncle Ted,” Brenna called across the distance that separated them. “How come Carl and Gladys Stamper had only the one child?”

“Well, when your Aunt Margo was born, her folks took one look at her and threw away the mold,” Ted answered proudly.

“Margo broke the mold, all right,” Brenna muttered under her breath to Jean.

“Brenna!” Jean whispered. “Uncle Ted will hear you! We don’t want to hurt him just because he has bad taste in wives.”

At that moment, Louise and Margo stepped out of the woods.

“Here’s our girls, Frank!” Ted said, rushing forward.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ted!” Margo admonished. “Stop your horsing around. You’ll spill the bowl I’m carrying.”

“Let me take that bowl for you, Sweetie,” Ted said, grabbing the food out of Margo’s hands.

“There must be some attraction we’re not aware of,” Brenna muttered.

Jean felt like digging her elbow into Brenna’s ribs, but she saw Craig and Ron approaching from the lake shore and decided to act like an adult.

“Those two seem to have hit it off,” Brenna muttered. Then she turned to Jean. “Are you sure you’re not interested in Craig?”

“Not at present. We’re just good buddies.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want to step on your toes.”

“What about Sam, Brenna? Are you still writing to him?”

“He’s half a world away in Vietnam. He realizes that I’ll be dating. He doesn’t expect me not to see other guys.”

“You know, we don’t deserve Ron and Sam.”

Brenna shrugged. “We gave them no promises.” She turned to Ted. “Where’s Curtis tonight?” 

“Oh, he and his football teammates went to the movies together. Ever since he entered high school this year, we’ve been neglected. Margo said that it’s to be expected. I thought he might want to take part in this wiener roast since it will probably be the last one this season. I told him that you’d be here, Jean, and he hated to miss seeing you, but he wanted to be with the rest of the guys. Besides, you’re a high school teacher now. You know how it is.”

“Sure, I do, Uncle Ted. It’s very important to be with one’s age group. I understand.” Jean had heard the disappointment and resignation in his voice. “Tell Curtis ‘Hi’ for me, and I’ll see him next time I’m home, probably at a football game.”

Ted brightened. “Hey, that’s right! You’ll probably get to see him play, too!”

“I can’t wait, Uncle Ted.”

“Everybody, come and get your wiener sticks,” Frank announced.

 

After they toasted marshmallows and watched the embers of the fire die out, they sat around in the dark and sang old, nostalgic songs. The strains of “Shine On, Harvest Moon” and “Sweet Adeline” wafted through the pines as Ron huddled next to Jean, and they held hands. Later, he kissed her goodnight at the cabin door and left for Canton.

“This was a good evening for everybody.”

“Hmm? Oh, hi, Daddy. You’re still awake?”

“Not for long, Jean. Your mother is rinsing out a few things, so I’m resting a few minutes in this easy chair.”

Jean grinned. “You know what we’ve always said: Even if a tornado was coming, Mother would have to stop and rinse out a few things.”

“Yes, the house might blow away, but everything would be clean.”

They laughed.

“I’m glad you were able to be here tonight, Jean.”

“Me, too. This whole weekend has been like a steadying anchor for me. I’m having to adjust to a whole lot of new situations at Woodstock.”

“Are you starting to get it straightened out yet?”

“A little. It’s difficult, but I think I’m going to love it.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’ve been worried.”

“I know you have, and I thank you for your concern.” She stifled a yawn. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m turning in, Daddy. It’ll be wonderful sleeping in the woods again and listening to the waves slap up on the beach. See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, kitten. Glad you’re home.”

 

“I had a great weekend,” Craig said as he and Jean drove back to Woodstock late Sunday afternoon. “Sorry I didn’t go to church and eat dinner with you today, but my Aunt Cora finally put her foot down. She said I’d come to visit her, but she had hardly seen me at all, so I spent time with her.”

Jean laughed. “We figured as much.”

“I enjoyed meeting your family, Jean.”

She glanced at him sideways. “Especially one of them?”

He grinned. “You can hitch a ride home with me any weekend you want. I think I’m going to be spending a lot of time in Canton. I like Brenna a lot.”

“I’m glad. I think you’re both lucky.”

“Last night reminded me of fun my family used to have together. Now, with the older ones married and some of them living a distance away, we can barely get together for holidays. Mom says soon it’ll get worse with the next generation getting older. We already have problems with in-law obligations.”

“As it should be. The other sides want their families all together, too. At least my folks never had the long distance problem. They grew up about twenty miles apart, but both graduated from Canton. My cousins are getting scattered, though. Daddy says that soon the family will be getting together only for weddings and funerals, and it will be a miracle if everyone makes it then.”

“I guess that happens in families. Children of first cousins hardly ever meet each other, let alone know each other.”

Jean frowned. “That means that my grandchildren and Brenna’s will barely recognize each other.”

Craig laughed. “You’ve got to get those grandchildren first!”

 

Jean smiled. “I did get the cart before the horse, didn’t I? As the Bible says,  
everything in its right season.”

“The important thing is to enjoy the here-and-now.”

“You never struck me as a philosopher, Martin.”

“Guys can have serious thoughts, too!” he protested jokingly.

“I know. Look! There’s Woodstock coming up! Well, back to the real world.”

He shot her a look. “Did you have that feeling, too? That as nice as the weekend was, we really belong back here?”

Jean sighed. “We’re starting to leave our childhoods behind, Craig. I think Daddy realized it, too.”

“It must be a sad thing for a parent to push children out of the nest. It’s necessary, but difficult. I expect it would be doubly difficult with daughters.”

“Why?”

“We want to protect them while sons are supposed to go out and fight the world.”

“We should change that image, Craig. I’ve heard that the sharp differences between the sexes is fading. And I think that sounds pretty healthy. Women want to stand on their own feet.”

 

“Good morning, Miss Harnett,” a high voice twittered.

Jean looked up from the librarian’s desk and smiled as Martha Clapsattle, the diminutive business teacher, hustled into the library and perched on a chair at one of the reading tables.

“How are you this morning, Miss Clapsattle?” Jean asked as she shoved a drawer shut on her work. Other faculty members would be arriving soon for the weekly Wednesday teachers’ meeting before school started.

“Just fine, my dear. My, I don’t get to see enough of you. We’re at opposite ends of the hall. You’ll have to come for an evening of canasta. And bring Miss Bergetti, also. She used to attend our little sessions last year, but she got busy.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Miss Clapsattle. I’ll let you know,” she answered in a kind voice. Zoe had told her about those canasta evenings with the Clapsattle sisters, Martha, Chloe, and Esther. Three maiden ladies who were forever searching for a fourth hand quickly exhausted any unsuspecting person they drew into their web. They smothered people with kindness and solicitude until the very oxygen was denied their guest. Generally they trapped lonely teachers and bachelors. Spinsters were too wily for them. Chloe was the town librarian and Esther had once been a missionary in China. Chloe had a faint odor of disapproval about her as though something had recently shocked her, but she wasn’t going to give it credence by recognizing it. Esther affected a melancholy air as if she had once suffered a great tragedy and was often heard to sigh a lot. Rumor had it that she’d had a love affair with a married minister in China, and the resulting child, a son, now grown, was residing in Chicago.

Of the three ladies, Jean liked Martha Clapsattle the best. She was always bright and chipper, and reminded Jean in size and attitude of a little song sparrow. Even her little, black beady eyes appraised any current scene with interest and enthusiasm.

Jean could see that Miss Clapsattle’s tiny feet dangled above the library floor as she sat on the wooden chair.

“Do you think we’ll have an early frost this year?” Jean asked, grasping at the first subject that crossed her mind. She hated silences, especially with Miss Clapsattle looking at her expectantly.

“Oh, heavens, I hope not! It would catch so many of my flowers in full bloom. And the farmers are afraid frost would hurt some of their late soy beans. You know, the ones they planted after they combined wheat in June.”

Jean smiled. “I feel like I’m at home hearing talk about crops. I never lived on the farm, but I know something about it. My Uncle George lives on the place where my father grew up. As a youngster, I spent some time visiting my country cousins, so I know how great that type of life is.”

“My sisters and I grew up in the country. I wouldn’t take a thing for the experience.” Her eyes twinkled and she lowered her voice. “And I wouldn’t live back out there for the world.”

Jean laughed.

“Farming is hard work,” Miss Clapsattle said in a serious voice. “As soon as we could, my sisters and I left to pursue college educations. Thank goodness we had brothers who could help Papa farm. Unless you snagged a man back then, all you could do was housework for someone else or help out on the farm.”

“I had no idea--”

“Life is much easier now, my dear. When I see the opportunities you young folks have, especially the young ladies, I must admit that I’m envious. But I wouldn’t wish that hard farm life on anyone. Oh, here comes Mr. Griffith! How are you this morning?” she twittered.

Jean could hardly believe the change in the small, elderly lady. Miss Clapsattle wasn’t all fluff and feathers, after all. She had known hardship. Maybe she hadn’t known Life the way a wife and mother did, but she had not been isolated, either.

Lacey Griffith, the band man, bowed his head solemnly to Miss Clapsattle, and she sighed deeply. He nodded in Jean’s direction. A gorgeous man and truly handsome, Jean thought, but too smooth and almost oily for her tastes.

Jean smiled graciously. “Good morning, Mr. Griffith. I hear your marching band every morning. They sound good.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Harnett. I appreciate any words of encouragement. Homecoming is fast approaching, and the band members are working valiantly to make a good showing.”

“I’m sure they will do just fine, Mr. Griffith.”

“Do you plan to be here to watch them?”

“Miss homecoming?! Never! I’ll be right here, cheering on the team and supporting the kids any way I can.”

“You come from a football town, don’t you? I understand that Canton’s homecoming is the same Friday as Woodstock’s.”

“Yes,” Jean answered with disappointment. “It’ll be the first homecoming I’ve missed in years. But I have new loyalties now.”

“That’s very commendable, Jean.”

Using her first name seemed to make him more personable, and Jean suddenly liked him better than she had before.

The steady clatter of high heels echoed in the hallway and turned into the library. A tall, very slender woman in her early thirties smiled at everyone. Her dark hair was swept up off her neck, and she wore a tailored, smart suit. Jean always felt slightly dowdy around Rose Paget, the home economics teacher, but Rose always acted down to earth, as if she didn’t realize how chic she looked. Jean liked her at face value, for Jean sensed that Rose had lived a checkered life and was willing to hide out in the small town of Woodstock and be out of the mainstream for awhile.

“Ah, Miss Paget, and how are you this morning?” Mr. Griffith asked gallantly. His dark eyes had twinkled with interest when he saw Rose entering.

Jean understood they were an item, or would be if Rose would only give in. She seemed to waver between Griffith and the man just entering the library.

Jack Walsh was the math teacher and head football coach. He was probably a few years older than Lacey Griffith, but his prematurely gray hair and weathered face made him look older than a man not yet forty. He had a divorced wife and teenage children somewhere near Chicago, but they were almost more myth than fact because no one had ever seen them. He always looked tired and worn out, but his quiet demeanor was deceptive, especially on a football field where his temper could flare. He and Rose shared a love for the out-of-doors which Griffith with his chronic hay fever could only sneeze at. The three were an interesting triangle.

Walsh nodded at Miss Clapsattle who flashed him a smile, barely glanced in Jean’s direction, and seated himself on the other side of Rose.

“How’s it going, Walsh?” Griffith inquired.

Walsh shrugged. “It’s going.”

“How does the team look?” Rose asked softly.

Walsh melted. “I think they’re going to play like a team, after all.”

“I saw them using the split-T formation yesterday,” Jean offered. “They’re well oiled. They made the play look easy.”

Walsh blinked. It always amazed him when women knew something about football, especially Jean. But then she was from Canton, a football town.

“Thanks for noticing, Miss Harnett.”

Jean smiled back. She was working to make friends with Walsh because he looked like he could use more.

A well proportioned man with a worldly air waltzed into the room as if he owned it. Here was one person Jean was not trying to win over. She had taken an instant dislike to Dennis Stoneman the moment she’d met him three weeks ago, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. He was pushing thirty, and Jean figured it was from the wrong side. What bothered Jean a lot about him was that he liked to give people the impression that he was ‘in the know’ and had a lot more going for him when he really didn’t. He was guidance counselor and taught economics, psychology, and anything else he could convince the administration he was qualified to instruct. He always appeared to volunteer for extra duty, then managed to slough it off on someone else and still get credit. 

His personal life wasn’t much better. His mousy wife was overworked and had to be blind to his roving eye. They had a hyperactive son in second grade who was a holy terror and an eighteen month old daughter who was deaf. And the daughter in junior high was boy crazy and probably headed for an early marriage.

But through it all, Stoneman remained outwardly calm. His hardy, glad-handed attitude made him a great favorite with students and townspeople alike. He made a popular master of ceremonies and fund raiser. Jean wished he wouldn’t spoil his ambassadorship with sleaziness. Perhaps he wasn’t confident enough to trust to his outer friendliness which drew most people.

Jean could see how Stoneman had hoodwinked James Adair who as superintendent was serving his last school after a thirty-five year career in education. Adair was a little lost in the glory days of his Naval hitch and liked to use terminology from that time. 

But Robert Cramer should surely see through Stoneman. Jean decided that perhaps Robert Cramer simply chose not to accept the truth about Stoneman. The man did his job. After a fashion, he performed. Nobody could fault him there. But he seemed two-faced, especially in his relationship with Robert Cramer. Why, only this Monday she had seen an underground flyer making fun of Cramer and supposedly authored by Stoneman. At first, Jean found the piece full of humor because it did satirize Robert Cramer so perfectly, but then she was offended for Cramer’s sake. How could Cramer defend himself if he didn’t suspect the attack from someone he supported? Jean could even remember how the piece was written:

Cramer Mortuary

For the ultimate in your hour of need, turn  
to the ghoulish gentlemen in black tux that  
haunt the Cramer Mortuary. From our  
clammy-handed staff to the quiet decor  
done in cheerful tones of somber black,  
we can assure you that your feelings of  
depressions and self-pity on losing your  
loved one will not be lessened by us. We’ll  
only add fuel to the flames, so to speak.  
(professional joke)

While paying our establishment your visit,  
do not forget to seek the comfort of our  
proprietor, Robert E. Cramer. His cold  
handed, heart-of-stone attitude will send  
shivers down your back and his condescending  
approach is guaranteed to scare the hell out of  
you.

Drop in often to the Cramer Mortuary, to select  
or just to browse. We’re here to please you, or  
die trying.

And remember our motto as you think of us:

“You Stab’em, We Slab’em!”

“Good morning,” Stoneman greeted the room in general, then glanced at Jean and said in a cooler voice, “And how is our little personal ray of sunshine this morning?”

“Just fine, Mr. Stoneman,” Jean answered.

“Nothing much douses your spirit, does it?” he asked as he sat down at a table.

“I try not to let that happen, Mr. Stoneman.”

Craig Martin walked in and gave Jean a puzzled look. He knew that Jean and Stoneman didn’t like each other, but here they were, chatting away.

“How’s everything with you, Martin?”

“The basketball girls are shaping up, Mr. Stoneman. I think we’re going to have a pretty good team this year.”

“Yes, sir, must be a pretty hard job you’ve got having to work with a bunch of girls dressed in shorts.”

“They’re just athletes that I’m trying to form into a team that works together, Mr. Stoneman.” Craig was starting to see Jean’s viewpoint. Stoneman was acting like a stupid ass this morning. Or maybe he was just baiting Craig because he knew that Craig and Jean were friends.

Rose Paget turned to Stoneman. “How is Clarissa by now, Dennis?”

“She still has a fever. We may have to take her to a specialist in Springfield.”

“Your baby is ill?” Jean asked, with sudden sympathy for the child. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you for your concern, Miss Harnett. And I see that there is something that will douse your spirit, after all. You actually frowned.”

“A sick child will always get my sympathy, Mr. Stoneman.”

Craig couldn’t decide whether they were being solicitous or catty with each other. Stoneman didn’t seem like such a bad sort to him, but he certainly rubbed Jean wrong and vice versa. Maybe Stoneman wasn’t as ambitious as he should be, but he was probably working to the extent of his abilities. And he’d managed to graduate from college so he’d had to have put some sort of effort forward at some time. Maybe Jean could see how flawed his career and life were, and that made Stoneman uneasy. She didn’t accept him the way he wanted to be accepted by the world.

Jean and Stoneman generally disagreed professionally. Craig had been witness to one such encounter. Stoneman said that the purpose of high school was for students to learn to get along together. Jean retorted that they were there to learn, by rote if necessary, so they could support themselves in the job market and have a background so they could relate to their world. She said the time for them to learn to get along together was in kindergarten.

“That’s why I can’t get your sympathy, isn’t it, Miss Harnett? I am neither a child nor am I ill.”

“That’s a matter of opinion, Mr. Stoneman.”

Craig was ready to say something to diffuse them when Cramer walked in the door.

“Is everybody here?” he mumbled absently.

“If you aren’t, speak up,” Stoneman muttered.

Ass, Jean thought. 

Cramer, of course, had not heard Stoneman.

“We’re missing Mr. Landis and Miss Bergetti,” Miss Clapsattle answered.

“Maybe they’re out killing each other,” Griffith quipped, and most of the faculty laughed. Everyone knew of the feud between those two.

“Here they come now,” Miss Clapsattle offered.

Brian and Zoe stepped into the library and faced their colleagues who were all watching them.

“I told you we were late, Landis.”

“But they couldn’t start without us, Red. They had to wait for the important ones to show up.”

The room tittered as Zoe and Brian found places across the room from each other. Everyone, except possibly Cramer, was aware of the two feuds on the faculty. Brian and Zoe’s was cute and clever, started because they were bored with the small school, while Jean and Stoneman’s was cold and calculating. They just plain didn’t like each other, and they didn’t even respect each other. Zoe and Brian, as Freshman sponsors, had to work together. And as odd as it was to listen to their bickering, they were friends. They might not be willing to admit to it, but they were friends who spent time together outside of school. There’s not a whole lot of possible friends for single people in a small town.

“Now, as to homecoming....” Cramer started.

 

“It doesn’t even seem like football weather yet,” Jean said as she and Zoe trudged toward the schoolhouse.

“You wait,” Zoe prophesied. “After the sun goes down, you’ll be happy you brought that extra cardigan along.”

“Oh, I know!” Jean replied, her cheeks aglow. “I just love football season! I love being outside in the crisp air. I’m not so crazy about basketball. I think it’s because it’s played indoors where it can get hot and stuffy.”

“Didn’t you say that you played high school basketball?”

“Oh, yes, and some in college.” She grinned. “But I still like football better.”

“Well, you’re going to love Woodstock then. These people really support football. Well, any school activity draws a crowd. I’ve heard people say they got in the habit of attending games when their kids were in school, and they’ve just kept on showing up, even after their kids graduated and moved away.”

They walked into the schoolhouse and headed for the cafeteria.

“Is that how these soup suppers got started?”

“Partly. The Lions are a very strong organization for such a small town. They sponsor these soup suppers for all home football games and make a lot of money. I thought it was only fair that I buy you your first Lions’ meal since I volunteered you and me to take tickets at the game.”

“I’m glad you did. That way I won’t seem like such a greenhorn working my first game. But since you insist on buying my bowl of soup, I insist on buying your dessert. Just look at that pie! And those cakes! Who baked them? Don’t tell me that the guys in the Lions did.!”

Zoe grinned. “No, their wives belong to the Lionelles. They’re responsible for the desserts.”

“Well, they look yummy!”

Zoe and Jean collected their vegetable soup, saltine crackers, and apple pie and settled beside a nice looking man about thirty years old.

“Jean, I want you to meet Frederick Lang. Fred, this is Jean Harnett, the new English teacher.”

Jean grinned at the dark haired man and thought how good looking he was, but he seemed to have an air of disdain about him.

“Hello, Mr. Lang. How nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Miss Harnett. And how do you like our little town so far?”

Jean’s grin broadened. “Oh, I love it! It’s everything I hoped my first school would be!”

Lang looked at Zoe. “You’re right, my dear. This young lady is certainly enthusiastic.” He looked back at Jean. “That’s exactly what our student body is needing, a teacher who can inspire them.”

“I hope I can, Mr. Lang. I do so love literature and the beauty of our English language. I hope I can pass on an appreciation of both to my students. If I leave them with nothing else, I hope they’ll remember that legacy.”

“I’m sure they’ll remember your enthusiasm, too.”

“Do you have youngsters in school, Mr. Lang?”

“I don’t have a family yet, Miss Harnett.” He glanced at Zoe. “I have yet to convince a certain young lady to accept my hand.”

Zoe blushed, and Jean understood that Zoe and Mr. Lang were in the first stages of courtship.

Rose Paget wandered by. “May I sit with you?”

“Of courage,” everyone murmured. Mr. Lang rose slightly to pay homage to Miss Paget as she seated herself.

“I understand that you two ladies are taking tickets tonight,” Miss Paget said. “I’ve got the money box ready for you.”

“Thank you, Rose,” Zoe answered. “We decided to get our turn over with before the snow flies.”

“Wise plan.” Rose tasted her vegetable soup. “I wish my home Ec girls could cook this well. The Freshmen girls are REALLY learning.” She rolled her eyes. “How are you this evening, Reverend Lang?”

“Very well, thank you, Miss Paget. And how has your school year gone so far?”

Jean missed Rose’s answer. She was too busy trying to catch Zoe’s eye so she could look darts at her. Why hadn’t Zoe told her that Lang was a minister? Maybe Zoe had wanted Jean to think of him as an ordinary person when she first met him, instead of a preacher. Jean could appreciate that, but Lang still had an air of sanctity about him. 

 

“Do you know why I did it, Jean?” Zoe asked later as they stood by the entrance to the football field and sold tickets.

“By ‘it,’ I assume you mean not giving Fred Lang his proper title when you introduced him?”

“That’s right. Do you hate me forever and ever?”

“Just ever. Forever’s too long.” She grinned. “Of course, I won’t! You wanted him to seem like a regular guy. People get wary when they know they’re talking to a minister. They’re almost as self-conscious as being around a policeman. Now, if you ever start dating one of THEM, you tell me right off, or I will never forgive you, forever and ever.”

Zoe blushed. “I’m not really dating Fred.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t feel very confident around him.”

“Why not?” Jean asked as she took a handful of money and grinned at the fans.

“I feel inferior.”

“Why? Zoe, maybe we better finish this conversation in private.”

“Why?”

Both girls laughed.

 

“Because he’s so good and proper, and I don’t feel very comfortable around him,” Zoe answered as she sipped cocoa back at the house after the game.

Jean shrugged. “Stop seeing him then.”

“He’s living and breathing. And available. And for this town, that’s a lot. You wait. Somebody like Fred Lang’s going to seem pretty attractive to you before a winter spent in a small town is over.”

“I’m not husband hunting.”

Zoe hooted. “Everybody’s husband hunting!” She frowned. “And for some of us the search is getting a little desperate.”

“You’re not that old.”

“I’ll never see twenty-eight again.”

“Go to the city. There’s more men there.”

“I’ve lived in Denver. You know nobody.”

“And here everyone knows you,” Jean muttered. “You get like a comfortable, old slipper that everybody recognizes.”

“You get to be part of the scenery. That’s why the Fred Langs are attractive. They are part of the scenery, too.”

Jean figured Zoe was right, but she hated to think about it.

 

“Good morning, Mrs. Doubleday.”

“Good morning, Reverend Lang. I want to introduce you to our new English teacher, Miss Jean Harnett,” she said as the three stood in the church doorway.

“Well, Iris, I’m pleased to say that I’ve already met Miss Harnett.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that!”

Frederick Lang smiled graciously. “But a second introduction is well warranted. That means that Miss Harnett comes with good credentials,” he said smoothly, helping Mrs. Doubleday to cover her embarrassment. “Zoe introduced us Friday evening at the soup supper down at school.” He turned to Jean. “Welcome to Woodstock again, Miss Harnett, and I hope you will continue to attend our services,” he said as his large mouth extended to show his strong, white teeth. He was tall and muscular, his broad face well tanned, and professionally friendly.

“Thank you, Reverend Lang. I am a Methodist, so I will be attending services here during my weekends in Woodstock.”

“I certainly hope that will be often, Miss Harnett,” he said with a pleasant smile and turned to the next parishioner in line. “Good morning, Mr. Brown. So nice to see you and your family this morning.”

“My, he’s certainly nice,” Jean exclaimed as she and Mrs. Doubleday walked down the sidewalk. They had only the long block north and the railroad tracks to cross before they were home. It seemed silly to Mrs. Doubleday and Jean alike to pull out the old Chevy for that short trip. And the day was so nice, anyway, with the promise of autumn in the air. All they needed was a killing frost for the leaves to start to turn.

“Did you notice his suntan?” Mrs. Doubleday asked. “He got that this summer by helping farmers who couldn’t afford to hire field hands.”

“Then he’s no city boy.”

“No, he grew up on a North Dakota farm where living is really rugged. But he never let poverty stop him. And he never seems to learn enough. He’s enthusiastic about everything.”

“He’s a scholar then,” Jean noted and wondered if that wasn’t part of Zoe’s problem with him. Zoe had an artistic, off-beat flair that reminded Jean of the classic picture of a Beatnik. She wondered how much backpedaling Zoe had to do to stay in Woodstock and in Frederick Lang’s good graces.

For that matter, what about Brian Landis? Now there was a case to ponder. He didn’t seem to fit any notch. Jean wondered if he had any long-range career goals outside of keeping food on the table. And he was so skinny, she knew he wasn’t that interested in food. What had brought him to a tiny town like Woodstock, and why?

Jean wondered if this wasn’t what she would find in her educational career. Teachers, adrift like lost souls in unknown oceans not of their choosing, floundering with their own demons and unable to cope with the job they’d committed themselves to for nine months? She hoped that she could keep herself directed toward educational excellence, but who knew what a few years in her chosen profession would bring forth in her? She could become another Dennis Stoneman. She shuddered inwardly. Surely, she wouldn’t end up like him. But she shouldn’t judge. There but for the grace of God, go I, she thought.

“I wonder if Zoe is up yet?” Mrs. Doubleday said as they neared the house. “I never can get her to go to church with me. I guess it doesn’t help her.”

And maybe it’s the preacher, but Jean didn’t repeat that to Mrs. Doubleday.

 

Jean stood before her class reading from a book. It was an old book, written in 1901, and mostly forgotten except by professors of American literature. Frank Norris had written THE OCTOPUS as the first volume of a projected trilogy and had died before he could finish the set. At the turn of the century, railroads held a virtual monopoly on shipping and could dictate the price of small grain. The story concerned the struggle of wheat farmers in California against the monopoly of the railroad ‘octopus.’

But the excerpt Jean read concerned an unscrupulous railroad agent who seems unstoppable until he accidentally falls into a wheat bin. At first annoyed by his predicament, he struggles vainly to rescue himself from the grain that gradually sucks him to his death beneath its surface as surely as quicksand would.

She knew that children with a rural farming background would be affected by the excerpt and they were, if any indication of quick looks told Jean anything. They were wide-eyed and hanging onto Jean’s every word. Some swallowed as if the wheat was slowly sucking the breath out of them.

Jean had read several other excerpts aloud from books to her classes to set the mood for theme writing. She had hit upon this method because she sincerely believed that she moved her students. She was no actress, but she had enough ‘ham’ in her to be effective. Melodrama was her forte, and it served her well not only when making speeches but now in her classroom.

She gently closed the book and said softly, “I would like you to write themes about ‘The Trap.’”

 

The students stirred a little, as if coming out of a trance. Yes, she had moved them. They took out paper and pencil to begin jotting down ideas, but some of them simply gazed out of the window. Years later, they may have forgotten what she tried to teach them about sentence diagramming or subject verb agreement, but she believed that they would never forget the day she had read the story aloud about the man drowning in wheat. If she left them with nothing else but an appreciation of their literature, she would not have failed them.

Some of the themes retold the story of the drowning man, but Jean was encouraged by their attention to detail and drama. Some themes told about other traps: a golf ball in a sand trap and a book trapped in a locker. And a very mature slant about someone caught in a no-win relationship came from a student who obviously had writing ability. Jean would have to direct that student’s talent and not allow her to be lazy with her writing.

Jean congratulated herself on a lesson well taught.

Then the pranks began. Chet Monroe, the janitor, was walking down the main hallway one afternoon shortly after sixth period began and heard a tiny scratching sound coming from a locker. Upon investigation, Chet discovered a small Freshman boy stuffed in a locked locker. The next day an equally small Freshman girl was hung by her jumper straps from a coat hook and left to dangle until her yells brought teachers and students alike running out of classrooms.

 

“These pranks must cease,” Cramer said at that week’s regular teachers’ meeting. “Does anyone have any idea how this got started?”

The teachers looked at each other, puzzled. 

Finally, Dennis Stoneman drawled, “One student told me that it stemmed from a class assignment given by Miss Harnett.”

Jean stared at Stoneman’s smugness.

“What do you mean by that, Mr. Stoneman?” Cramer asked.

“Miss Harnett read a short piece about a man trapped and drowning in wheat to her class. Then her students were assigned to write themes about a trap.”

“Is that true, Miss Harnett?”

“Yes, it is, Mr. Cramer.”

“You didn’t imply anything further?”

“I thought I hadn’t.”

“Maybe Miss Harnett was trying to stimulate the creative imaginations of her students,” Stoneman drawled.

“That was what I was, indeed, trying to do, Mr. Stoneman.”

“Well, you succeeded.”

The sentence hung on the air. Finally, Cramer said, “It sounds like an honest mistake. Perhaps, next time, Miss Harnett, you can foresee similar consequences.”

“Yes, Mr. Cramer,” Jean mumbled, humiliated by being the center of attention. Why did Stoneman bring the matter up in the general teachers’ meeting instead of the two of them meeting with Cramer? Stoneman would probably try to act innocent if confronted. Jean was in the wrong if she tried to defend herself and in the wrong if she kept quiet. Stoneman had won that round, and Jean knew he felt smug about it.

 

“We didn’t think you’d get in trouble, Miss Harnett,” a student in class told her the next day.

Never mind the fact that private matters discussed in teachers’ meeting seemed to be common knowledge with the student body, Jean felt the private matters could not be discussed openly even though some faculty member had obviously been doing just that.

“We like the stories that you read to us, and we don’t want you to stop,” the student continued.

“Thank you, Mike. I appreciate your saying that.”

 

What surprised Jean was that Cramer told her nearly the same thing in private.

“You are using a good teaching tool,” Cramer said. “And you are also exposing the students to facets of our literature that they might not ever encounter elsewhere.”

“Then you don’t mind if I use further examples?” Jean asked in surprise.

“Of course not! I never said you couldn’t. Just be a little more judicious.” He paused. “You and Mr. Stoneman don’t always see eye to eye, do you?”

She drew herself up. “No.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“Our educational theories differ, for starters.”

“And--”

Jean didn’t rat on her fellow colleagues, although it was obvious that Stoneman didn’t labor under that same moral code.

“And we’ve had a clash of personalities ever since I started here. Some people just don’t get along, and I guess Mr. Stoneman and I are two of those people.”

“I can’t do too much about that, except ask the two of you not to bring your feud into the classroom.”

“Are you giving Mr. Stoneman the same request?”

“I already have. And he assured me that he would comply. What’s wrong, Miss Harnett? Your face says you don’t quite believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you wholeheartedly. I just don’t believe that Mr. Stoneman will live up to his promise.”

“You seem to judge him harshly, Miss Harnett. A lot of people in Woodstock think highly of him.”

“I know. But there’s just something about him that I don’t like.” She straightened her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cramer. I prefer not to discuss a colleague. I feel disloyal.”

“In this case, you’re not being disloyal. I, as your administrator, am trying to keep peace on the staff. And you, as one of the staff, are being formally asked to cooperate by providing feedback to me. You are not gossiping, Miss Harnett. You are giving me your professional opinion.”

“Then let me say that I do not respect Mr. Stoneman as a person and as a teacher, parent, and father. Furthermore, I disagree strenuously with his teaching methods and his philosophy of education. The man hasn‘t any, in my opinion.”

Cramer grinned and gave her a wise look through the top of his horn-rimmed glasses. “My goodness, you can speak bluntly when asked, can’t you?”

Jean folded her arms. “Yes, I can.”

“I appreciate your candor. Thank you.”

“I’m glad I could help.” She paused. “May I ask what Mr. Stoneman said about me?”

“You know that I can’t tell you that.”

“Will you tell him what I just said about him?”

“I will provide your input with the same amount of discretion that I afforded Mr. Stoneman’s opinions.”

“I thank you for that much. I’m sorry that you’re caught in the middle of this mess, Mr. Cramer.”

“That’s what I agreed to do when I took on this job,” he said smugly with a slight air of the martyr about him.

Jean sighed to herself. If she could just knock Cramer off his high horse! But she couldn’t. All she could hope for was that he might eventually become a regular guy. Surely, he knew how sanctimonious he sounded! On the other hand, maybe he didn’t.

 

“Gosh, Jean,” Zoe said later. “I thought I was watching you slide backwards down a sheer sheet of ice. That was a terrible thing that happened to you in teachers’ meeting.”

“Stoneman and Cramer were right about one thing, though. I should be more careful about consequences. But do you know what Cramer also said to me? Don’t stop using literary quotes to stimulate interest. He really supports me on this one.”

“That’s something of a first for you two, isn’t it?”

“Oh, sometimes I think there’s been other times when we didn’t realize we were arguing on the same side. I at least respect Mr. Cramer, and I have a different opinion of Stoneman.”

 

“So, why don’t they have a pep club at Woodstock High?” Jean asked as they drove toward the town where that Friday’s away football game was to be played.

Zoe shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it’s not part of their school tradition.” She concentrated on guiding her old Renault down the road.

Jean nodded toward the car directly in front of them. “I mean, this ‘wagon train’ is a fine idea, but the girls should have something that is exclusively theirs. It should be a school activity, not a community effort.”

“You know how this community is when it comes to supporting school functions.”

“And it’s great that the community does. The ‘wagon train’ lets everybody in Woodstock travel together to an out-of-town game. And everyone along the way, including the opposing school’s town, can see how much support the Woodstock Cardinals have. I don’t want to take a thing away from that. I just thought that a pep club would be good for school spirit.”

Zoe shook her head. “Poor Cramer. I can see trouble in store for him.” She glanced at Jean. “You are going that route, aren’t you?”

“Yes. He is my immediate superior.”

“And I can’t talk you out of it.”

“I treasure my memories of high school pep club. Why, I’d yell so much on Friday night that I couldn’t talk on Saturday morning.”

“If that’s a consequence, Landis would probably want me to join,” Zoe mumbled.

“What happened to him, by the way? I thought he was going to ride with us.”

“He got moody on me this afternoon.” She frowned. “I don’t know what happened. At first, he was going with us, then he changed his mind. I thought it’d do him some good to get out around people a little bit more.”

“You do like him!”

Zoe gave her a bored look. “Not really. I feel sorry for other people. I thought a night out would soften him up.”

“The ‘honey’ treatment?”

Zoe jerked. “The WHAT?”

“You remember. We were going to cover him with honey to sweeten him up.”

“Oh, THAT honey treatment,” Zoe said with relief. “I thought for a moment that maybe you were suggesting we call him ‘honey.’ That would scare the hell out of him, to quote him loosely. I think he likes feeling anti-social and barricading himself inside that smelly apartment.”

Jean’s eyes twinkled. “How do you know it’s smelly?”

“It’s an assumption.” Zoe grinned. “You aren’t going to catch me that easily. No, I really haven’t been in his sty. Come on, Jean, stop trying to manufacture a romance between Brian and me. I’m dating Fred Lang.”

“Sorry. I guess it’s just the matchmaker in me.” But even as she said it, she knew that Fred Lang was not the man for Zoe. Brian Landis probably wasn’t, either, but Fred Lang definitely wasn’t. Just his attitude belittled Zoe. Her self esteem was not all that good, and Fred Lang did nothing to improve it.

“Going to Cramer, eh? I feel sorry for him. He won’t know what hit him.”

Jean just grinned.


	2. October

Cramer absently eyed Jean as she stepped into his office, but she was determined she would see this thing through.

“Come in, Miss Harnett. I’ll be finished with Cheryl in a moment.” He turned to the student standing in front of his desk. “Cheryl, what if you and the refreshment committee meet second hour and--”

Jean listened to his careful instructions and saw Cheryl’s worried face brighten with Cramer’s solution to her problem.

“Thank you, Mr. Cramer. That will work! Excuse me, Miss Harnett.”

Jean stepped aside so the student could get by her in the small office.

“What can I do for you this morning, Miss Harnett?”

“I want to organize a pep club.”

Cramer blinked. Gosh, she realized too late that she should have built up to this declaration. Well, the damage was done. She might as well plunge ahead with her arguments before he recovered enough from his stunned look to stop her.

“The cheerleaders need to know they have the support of the student body. During ball games, the kids are scattered with parents, they don’t yell with the cheerleaders, and nobody can recognize them as Woodstock supporters,” she explained as she paced his office. “The kids should sit together, wear similar uniforms, and be proud of their organization and school.”

“Miss Harnett, will you please sit down? Now, I know that your home town has a pep club--”

“Yes, and I was very proud to be a part of it!”

“I can imagine. But you came up through the grades just living for the day when you could become a pep club girl. These students have never looked forward to that, therefore it wouldn’t be as important to them.”

“But we could build up the tradition. They could learn to care.”

“Maybe other people do not get as involved as you do,” he said diplomatically.

“Maybe Canton students have more loyalty and school spirit than Woodstock!”

He bristled. “If you want to organize a pep club, you have my permission to try. Miss Bergetti can help you, if she wishes.”

“She’s already volunteered. I thought if some of the more popular girl students and class leaders would join, then the other girls would, also.”

“That sounds logical,” he snipped. His blue eyes seemed to be snapping.

She knew he was angry with her again. He was mincing his words, probably so he wouldn’t yell at her.

“Thank you, Mr. Cramer.” She jumped to her feet.

“Miss, ah, Harnett--”

She turned back to him. “Yes?”

“I wish you luck. If you need any help, I’ll be glad to do what I can--”

“If I need help, I’ll remember your offer!” she snapped.

Oh, gosh, why had she been so catty with him? What if she would need his help? How could she face him if she failed?

Well, she just wouldn’t fail, that was all there was to it!

Determinedly, she marched off to her classroom.

 

The girls wore the simple red sheath skirts they had made in home economics class with long sleeved white blouses and red bows in their hair. They sat together in one section of the bleachers and yelled the cheers they had rehearsed with the cheerleaders. Parents and spectators alike seemed impressed, and the boys even seemed to play better football.

The teams were well-matched and the game was close, especially during the last quarter. Jean became very excited and she felt the old enthusiasm as she chanted, then screamed, with the pep club.

At the final gun, the Woodstock quarterback made the winning touchdown. Cheers echoed and re-echoed as the team ran from the field and the crowd started to disperse.

Jean fought through the crowd, her face aglow in a wide smile. Merchants and townspeople called to her, and she called and waved back.

As she walked toward them as she left the football field, she saw that Robert Cramer was listening to an overjoyed school board member who was pounding him on the back.

“What a ball game!” Murray yelled. “And what a pep club! You really did a good job of organizing those girls, Bob.”

“You’re congratulating the wrong person, Murray. Miss Harnett here organized the girls.”

“Miss Harnett,” Murray said as he pumped her hand. “We’re very proud of you!”

“Not as proud as I am of the girls,” she said correctly.

“That’s true. That’s true. Keep coming up with the good ideas, and we’ll keep using them, won’t we, Bob?”

“I’m always interested in anything that is good for the school,” Cramer said to Murray as he left.

“Are you really?” Jean goaded as she grinned up at him. “Seems I remember you weren’t really in favor of the pep club when you first heard about it.”

“No, you’re mistaken. I’m for anything logical.”

“Do you think I’m logical, Mr. Cramer?” she asked in a teasing way as she tilted her head toward him. She might’ve even winked, in collusion. When he didn’t answer, she prodded him. “Mr. Cramer?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think I’m logical?”

He seemed to shake himself back to the present. “Your idea was. Pep clubs have worked elsewhere. If it worked here, then we’d all profit. If it didn’t, well, not too much would have been lost.”

“And thanks for giving me credit.”

“You deserved it. If you do a good job, you should learn to accept praise graciously.”

“And what if the pep club wouldn’t have worked?”

“Then OUR idea would have failed.”

“Now, that’s real dedication. Staying out of the limelight when praise is handed out, but stepping in when the brickbats start to fly. That’s commendable.”

“That’s the way I think a good administrator should behave. I’m just doing my job.”

“You’re too modest.”

He looked humble and she nearly laughed over his conceit. Her blue eyes twinkled and she saw a tiny look of interest from him.

“Jean!”

“Zoe! Over here!”

“Well, here come your friends. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Wait--”

“Good evening, Miss Harnett.” He melted into the crowd.

“Boy, it’s starting to get chilly,” Zoe said and her cheeks glowed with healthy color as she walked up. “Hey, did I see you talking with our illustrious principal?”

“Yes, and he finally conceded that the pep club was a good idea.”

“About time! And what a game! I think that we, you and I, won it, though.”

Jean grinned. “We? How do you figure that?”

“Why, we organized the girls. The girls yelled for the boys, and the boys wanted to get the game won so they could get with the girls and see what else they had won.”

“Oh, Zoe, you’re crazy! But probably right.”

“Hey! Do you know how great you look when your eyes twinkle like that? Pink cheeks, nice smile, the regular wholesome bit? And that silly red bow in your hair tops it all off. You look scrumptious enough to eat.”

“Oh, you’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. It’s a wonder that every man here isn’t fawning at your feet. You’ll have to share your beauty secret.”

So that explained that interested look from Cramer. He could dampen most of his emotions, but that look of awed wonder of her beauty had sneaked by. It was encouraging to know he was that much human, and that much of a man.

“Glad to share my secret. I drink milk at every meal.”

Zoe made a horrible face. “Milk. Ugh!”

“Come on! Let’s go make some hot cocoa! I’m cold! You won’t even notice the milk with chocolate in it.”

 

Jean glanced up from the blouse she was ironing to look at her roommate ruffling through the pages of a fashion magazine and not paying much attention to the articles.

“What’s wrong, Zoe? You aren‘t reading those articles.” She grinned. “Unless you‘re a speed reader!”

Zoe slammed down the magazine and her green eyes snapped. “Oh, that Brian Landis!”

Jean raised an eyebrow tolerantly. “Now what has Landis done?”

“He had the audacity to call me a beatnik! And to my face!”

“At least he didn’t say it behind your back.”

“But where does he get stuff like that?!”

Jean glanced at Zoe’s lemon yellow blouse and tiered persimmon print skirt. Long, artistic fingers ended in tapered, brightly polished nails. A bangle bracelet peaked from beneath one shirt sleeve, and an out-sized, oriental ring commanded her left hand. Jean would find the ring too ornate for herself, and she could never wear those bright colors, especially together.

“You do have a very distinctive style of clothing,” Jean tried to say diplomatically.

Zoe blinked. “Do you mean I dress like a beatnik?!”

“Well, maybe,” Jean hedged and braced for the explosion that she knew would follow.

“What can we do about it?”

Jean relaxed. “Maybe change your clothing from ethnic to dramatic, for starters. You know, tailored suits and bold lines. Not many women could pull off such a severe style, but I believe that you can.”

“Let’s not get carried away and throw out my wardrobe. I don’t have too much spending money.”

“We can start with a black two-piece suit and change its look with accessories such as a leopard scarf or a dramatic pin. You already have some great jewelry. Those chunky gold bracelets will work great! We can add a white, long sleeve blouse and a charcoal gray skirt and mix and match them with skirts and blouses you already own. Your blue and white striped blouse and the burgundy one will work just fine. We’ll soften your dramatic look and give it some sophistication instead of losing it. And soften your color palette. How come you wear such flamboyant colors, anyway? Especially, together?”

“Defensive, I guess. And self image problems It helps me soothe my ego about not attracting men.”

“You’re crazy! You could get any man you wanted!”

“You might believe that, but I don’t. Until only a few years ago, I’d never been out with a man.”

“But, why not? You can’t mean you’d never dated?”

“Never.”

“Not even in high school?”

“Especially not in high school. And college was a disaster.”

“But college offers so many men.”

“Not for me, it didn’t.”

“I don’t understand it. You’re a lovely girl with one of the best figures I’ve ever seen. You‘ve got curves in all of the right places. Men must find it difficult to keep their hands off of you.”

“I didn’t always have this figure, Jean. You are looking at what remains of a two hundred pound teenager.”

“Oh, Zoe! Not you!”

“And I’d probably still be fat if it hadn’t been for the accident.”

“What accident?”

“The one that killed my family.”

“Oh, Zoe, how awful!”

“They were coming to see me graduate from college when their light plane crashed. Mama and Daddy and my aunt Ellen were killed. I went into shock and mourned for over a year. My uncle talked me into teaching. He wanted me to think of someone else. I wouldn’t do it until he took me to a reservation school, and I saw how much those poor little Indian kids needed help. I taught there for a couple of years, then I had to get away, so I came out back East here for a completely different setting. This is my second year here. I shouldn’t have stayed.”

“But why not?! I wouldn’t never met you, otherwise.”

“That’s the nice part of it. The school is my family. I have some great colleagues.” She twisted her mouth and ground out her cigarette. “Some who are not so great.”

“You and Brian are in the same boat. You might be able to help each other. He doesn’t seem to have many strings, either.”

“He’s probably cut them all!” Zoe said with a hoot of laughter. “Better yet, his family probably did.”

“He’s a good teacher, though, and relates well with the students.”

“Not to hear him tell it.”

Jean smiled. “He just likes to complain. His bark is worse than his bite.”

“Oh, please, don’t cover him with honey! He’s not that sweet!”

“Where is he this weekend?”

“Who knows? He crawls into some vile hole over the weekend, I suspect, and shuts out the world. Then he crawls out early on Monday morning, blinks at the bright sunshine, and slogs on down to the schoolhouse to growl himself through another week.”

“Jean frowned. “Sounds lonesome.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, that’s the way he wants it. I think that man hates everything that exists. He always refers to the students as ‘those damn kids.’ His biggest pleasure is ‘shooting them out of the saddle.’”

“’Shooting them out of the saddle?’”

“Proving them wrong. Catching them on a mistake. And in class meetings, he just sits and stares out of the window. But if Justin makes one administrative error, Landis is off quoting Roberts’ Rules of Order to him.”

“But he’s always there for parties and night meetings, isn’t he?”

“Yes, I can’t find fault with him for that. But he’s so sarcastic! I never hear him praise anyone.”

“Something must’ve made him that way.”

“I’m only interested in unmaking him that way. He makes me nervous. About as much as Robert Cramer does.”

“I’d never thought about it before, but they are similar.”

“Yes, both perfectionists. But Landis wants to point out people’s errors and really not be bothered with the rest of school. He just doesn’t give a damn for anything.”

“And Cramer’s whole life centers around the school. He expects perfection out of everyone, even those like me who aren’t perfect and know it.”

“I’ll take it back. Landis does seem to care for something, or somebody, I should say.”

“Who?” Jean asked.

“You. He’s helping teach you to drive with the driver’s ed. car.”

“Oh, he likes you and Craig, too.”

“I think it’s the group he likes. You know, the four musketeers.”

Jean wrinkled her nose with a grin. “I like it, too. I think it’s fun. Maybe our group will see us through the winter.”

“Well, it will certainly be more interesting with you two here this year. Craig and I were on the staff last year, but not particularly close. I guess you and Landis have done that much for us. You‘ve expanded our horizons.”

“Are there any other groups, outside of Rose Page and her entourage?”

“Oh, some of the elementary teachers do things together. They’ve grown old together. A lot of them have worked in this same school system for years. Several of them have seen each other into widowhood. Elementary teachers don’t move around as readily as high school teachers do. I guess we’re more like gypsies. We have fewer roots.”

“That gives me a lonesome feeling.”

Zoe shrugged. “You get used to it. And it makes your life less complicated.”

“What about Fred Langley? He seems serious about you.”

“We’re drifters, and right now we’re drifting together. Neither one of us is meant for this town for very long. This place is a stopgap for both of us. And as for our occasional dating, it’s just a desperation move. I’m used to going it alone, and I expect that he is, too.“

“Then, why see him, at all, if you aren’t that committed to him?“

“He’s a handy date, that’s all. Someone to pal around with. Heaven only knows a halfway young person needs someone like that in this desert of long married couples and backwater society.”

Jean frowned. She wondered if she really understood Fred Langley and his intentions better than Zoe did.

 

Zoe and Jean approached the schoolhouse reluctantly a week later.

“Darn Mondays,” Zoe muttered. “They always spoil the weekend for me. Did I miss much this weekend while I was gone?” 

“Not a whole lot. Mrs. D. and I went to church yesterday, and I read in the afternoon. Oh, Reverend Lang says ‘Hi.’”

“He would,” Zoe said, almost under her breath.

“What’s wrong with you and him, anyway?”

“I guess I can’t live up to all that perfection. I’m uncomfortable around him. He’s looking for the perfect woman, Jean, and I’m just not her.”

“You just don’t believe in yourself enough.”

“Oh, no, here comes Landis,” Zoe said with a sigh. “Why do we have to face him already? Brian Landis and Monday mornings just shouldn‘t go together.”

“Good morning, ladies,” Brian greeted as he fell into step beside them. “And how are you on this lovely Monday?”

“Lay off, buster,” Zoe answered. “Your hangover is worse than mine.”

“You weren’t drinking, I hope,” Landis chided. “Freddy would disapprove.”

“A lot you know! No man owns me.”

“Wonder why?” he asked with fake charm mellowing his voice.

Zoe glared at him. “You are in a suicidal mood this morning, aren’t you?”

“Now, Miss Bergetti. Where’s that bright, toothy smile that means all’s right with the world?”

“If I knew that you weren’t pulling my leg, I’d shove your face into that mud hole over there. That’s how I am on this lovely Monday.”

“Kind of testy this morning, aren’t we?”

“It’s Monday. The only thing that’s going to improve that is Tuesday. Or better yet, Friday.”

“Don’t go around wishing your life away, my dear. You’re starting to sound like me. Woodstock High can’t have two pessimists on the staff. Back off, Bergetti, that’s my role.”

“Tell you what, maybe we should change our images. I think it’s about time you went around grinning all day.”

“Only if you agree to cuss out these damn kids.”

“Profanity does not pass these lips.”

“Ha!”

“True profanity.”

“It not only passes, it trips lightly, bounces broadly, and bawls like a braying mule from those luscious beginnings of thy exquisitely lovely mouth.”

Zoe glared at Brian. “You must’ve really hated Shakespeare. I’m sure he would’ve hated you, for your literary tastes, if for nothing else.”

“Of course, he would’ve. A mere mortal such as William Shakespeare would’ve recognized my superior intelligence and would’ve felt inadequate in my presence.”

“Inadequate isn’t quite the word that your presence brings to mind.”

“Oh, ho! Lousy doesn’t even begin to describe your weekend, does it? I told you that we should’ve spent time together.”

Zoe glared. “Even I’m not that desperate.”

“I wasn’t suggesting THAT, Bergetti. All I meant was if you’d been to the movies with me, you wouldn’t have been with ol’ Fred. And he’s bad news, honey.”

“Mind your own business. Honey! Oh, come on, Jean! Let’s go where the air is clearer.”

But Jean hung back and watched Zoe clump away.

“How are you really, Jean?” Brian asked conversationally.

She stared at him. “ A little mystified.”

“Sometime I’ll have to see what I can do to clear that up for you.”

“You’re the only one who can. Why don’t you like Fred Langley, anyway?”

“I can sense the slime under his skin.” Brian lightened his tone. “Besides, he treats her badly. She can do better than him.”

“You know what they say about love being blind, don’t you?”

“But does it also have to be stupid?”

Brian and Jean traded stares.

 

Jean checked her image in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She had never figured she’d ever be wearing an outfit like the one that was being reflected back at her: a white peasant blouse and a blue gingham skirt sewn in three tiers. A light blue knit shawl lay on a nearby chair ready to be draped demurely over her shoulders. Jean still wondered about the outfit. Mrs. D., though, had assured her that this was proper attire for a barn dance.

“Coming!” she hollered to the knock at her apartment door. “Brian! Come on in and let me see your outfit. Oh, my!” She began to laugh. “I’m sorry! I wouldn’t have recognized you in a crowd.”

“For your information, Miss Harnett,” he said, pretending to be greatly insulted by her laughter, “this is what I grew up wearing.”

“Blue jeans and red plaid shirts? Even the cute little bandanna knotted around your throat? Where did you grow up, anyway?”

“On a cattle ranch near O’Neill, Nebraska.”

She sobered. “You really were a cowboy?”

“Until my dad died, and then my mother and I moved into town. Life was a little harder then with Mom working in restaurants. She died when I was in high school.”

“Oh, Brian, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know why I’m telling you my life story. I didn’t come here to spill my guts to gain your pity. I thought I was picking you up for a dance.”

“That you are ! I’ll grab my shawl.”

“You look like a proper corn-fed country lass in that getup. You’re mightily fetching, ma‘am.”

She blushed. “Why, thank you, kind sir.”

“You’re turning out the lights? Won’t that be difficult for your roommate to see? I know she has a lot of odd talents, but I doubt if seeing in the dark is one of them.”

“Zoe isn’t here,” Jean said as she locked the front door.

Brian frowned as they walked down the sidewalk. “She’s out again with that Langley, I expect. I don’t know what she sees in that character.”

Jean glanced at Brian as he backed his car into the street. “There aren’t many available men in this town, according to Zoe. I keep telling her that there’s all sorts of single men down at the school.”

Brian glanced at her. “I bet you’re one of those.”

“Those, what? Men down at the school?”

“No, princess. My eyesight is better than that. And nobody could ever mistake you for a guy.“

“Why, thank you.“ She grinned. “A girl really has to work for a compliment around you.“

“I already told you that you looked fetching.“

She grinned. “I know. I’m being naughty. If I wanted to keep on being naughty, I’d say that that previous compliment had come from Cowboy Brian. And the sexist compliment I just heard came from jaded, school teacher Brian.“ She tilted her head at him. “You never did explain just what kind of person you thought I was.“

“I never got the chance.“

“Are you saying I talk too much?“

“Let’s just say that you don’t drop the conversational ball, okay? No, I bet you’re one of those females who fancy themselves to be matchmakers.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I know the type. You’ve got a romantic streak a smile wide. You want to match up people who are perfectly happy being single. And that makes you dangerous.”

“How so?”

“Because you’re generally successful.”

Jean laughed. “Maybe I shouldn’t be so obvious.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t interfere.”

Silence filled the car.

“I’m sorry, princess. I shouldn’t show my talons to you. Force of habit, I guess.”

“Why not? If I make you uncomfortable, I’ll back off. I like to see lonely people happy with someone, that’s all. What’s wrong with that?”

“I know you mean well. Guess I’m touchy tonight. We’re the only Freshman or Sophomore sponsors who are going to be at this Who-Ha! dance, and I’m feeling put upon.”

“Craig had to attend his grandmother’s birthday party this weekend. Besides, this dance is sponsored by the Lionelles. We’re here simply as a courtesy. Mr. Cramer thought it would be nice if some school personnel attended, that‘s all.”

“That could also include your roommate.”

“Guess we’ll have to make do without her. We don’t have much choice.”

“If that Langley is more important than we are, we’ll do better than that. We’ll do very well indeed, Jean.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Well, there’s the community building. Looks like quite a crowd is already here.”

“I shouldn’t even be here, Brian. I don’t know anything about square dancing.”

“Really? Just take my lead and listen to the caller. You’ll catch on fast.”

And she did. Soon she was weaving in and out of the intricate patterns as if she’d always square danced. She laughed and whirled with enthusiasm, and Brian was a natural teacher.

At the end of one set, she slipped and grabbed Brian to prevent a fall, then threw her head back and laughed.

“Oh, Brian, I’m out of breath!”

“Come on,” he said with his arm around her waist to support her. “Let’s sit this one out.”

“Oh, my!” she said as she fanned herself with her hand. “I haven’t had such fun in ages!”

“We need to cool off. I’ll go get us some punch.”

Jean watched the dancing until Brian returned.

“Oh, thank you! It’s delicious! Cherry, isn’t it?”

“I think so. Whew! It’s nice to sit down. Lacey Griffith was getting punch, too. He’s here with Rose Paget.”

“Did you see any other teachers?”

“Cramer.”

“Really?” she asked, looking around. “Where?”

“Over by the kitchen. See? Almost in the shadows?”

“His favorite haunt. Like Dracula. Is he scowling at us, I suppose?”

“You should’ve seen him when we were dancing, especially when you grabbed me and laughed. I think he doesn’t approve of the fun we’re having.”

“That’s because he isn’t dancing. He needs to have fun, too. He should be dancing, too!” 

“Now, what girl in her right mind would dance with him?” Landis mused.

Jean took it as a challenge. Cramer standing glaring from the shadows was an affront to all of womanhood.

“This girl!“ She jumped to her feet and headed for Cramer.

“Jean! No! Oh, brother,” Brian muttered and followed her.

“Good evening, Mr. Cramer!” she declared, stopping in front of him with a big smile plastered across her flushed face. “How are you this evening?!”

Cramer straightened. He was clearly startled. “Miss, ah, Harnett.”

Her grinned deepened, if that was possible. “Yes! That’s my name! Harnett!”

“Ah, good evening,” he mumbled, clearly at sea. Then he remembered that she had asked him a question. “I’m, ah, well, thank you. And, ah, you?” he remembered to ask her.

“Well, thank you for asking!“ She looked around. “Lovely dance, don’t you think?!” Her eyes were shining with energy and mischief.

Cramer glanced at Brian behind her. Landis looked noncommittal. Cramer saw he would get no help, or even an explanation, from that quarter. “Ah, yes. I suppose, it, ah, is.”

“No supposing about it!” She grabbed his arm. “Dance with me! Ladies’ choice. And if it isn’t, it should be!”

“No, thank you,” Cramer said as he gently removed his arm from her clutches. “I don’t square dance.”

“Neither did I, until this evening. It’s easy! Come on, I’ll teach you.”

“I, ah, prefer not--”

“Of course, you wouldn’t! That makes it all the more important for you to do it!”

“Ah--”

“Do you need rescuing, Mr. Cramer?”

“Mr. Landis! Yes, please. Your date seems insistent.” Cramer rallied with his rescuer close. “Miss Harnett, you’re being a little forward. Control yourself.”

“We aren’t at school, Mr. Cramer. You can’t tell me how to act here.”

“A lady always knows how to act anywhere.”

Jean smarted at the verbal jab. “So, I’m a brazen hussy, am I?”

“Come on, Jean,” Brian said. “Let’s dance. Leave him alone. He‘s ill equipped to be in your league.” He glimpsed at Cramer‘s critical eyes. “I think that he doesn‘t even recognize your league.”

Jean stared, unblinking, into Cramer’s cold blue eyes. Her face was flushed more by this encounter than by the dancing. A crooked smile played along her lips and kept her from bursting into the tears that were for some reason threatening to be shed. Cramer’s stony face would daunt anyone.

“Okay, I’m a brazen hussy,” she muttered. She leaned toward Cramer so he could be sure to hear. “But you’re a party pooper. P. O. O. P. ooo. per. So there!”

Cramer blushed.

“And you don’t have the right to expect everyone else to be as miserable as you are. There’s a world of fun out there, Mr. Cramer. Don’t let it slip away from you without getting your share of it. Get involved! Stretch yourself a little. For heaven‘s sake, dance! Dance a little, before the parade passes you by!”

Cramer blushed a deep red.

“Come on, Jean,” Brian insisted as he took her arm. “Let’s get in a square.”

“Wait, Brian.” She leaned toward Cramer again. “I’m sorry that you don’t want to dance with me, Mr. Cramer. I’m really not such a bad person, once you get to know me. But you won’t even let yourself do that, will you? That must be a terrible way to live. You made your mind up about little scatter brained me the first day we met, and you believe that I haven’t done much to improve that image. Have you?” 

She stared at Cramer, and he stared at her levelly back, but did not answer.

She glanced at Brian’s hand on her arm. “Oh, let’s go, Brian. It’s obvious that we’re not wanted here.”

“Sorry,“ Brian muttered to Cramer, then led Jean away. “This square needs a fourth couple.”

“All the squares aren’t on the dance floor.”

Brian actually looked shocked, but then they were caught up in the music and the dancing and forgot all about the silent man who watched the dancers from the shadows.

 

“I think you embarrassed Cramer,” Brian said later as they headed for his car after the dance broke up.

“He wrangled me, Brian. He can be so sanctimonious. Sometimes I’d like to jar him out of his complacency.”

“I think you came close to doing that this evening,” he muttered as he held the car door open for her. “Now there’s one you could use your matchmaking talents on. He’d be a real test of your abilities.”

Her head jerked up. “Please! I’ve got to have something to work with.”

Brian laughed as he closed her door and walked around to the other side of the car. “Don’t you like a real challenge?” he asked with laughter still in his voice.

“A challenge, yes. An impossibility, no. You’re having an awfully good time tonight,” she said, listening to his chuckle.

“It’d be difficult to be with you and not have a good time,” he said as he pulled the car away from the curb.

“I’ve seen a whole new side of you tonight, Brian. You’re almost lighthearted.“

“Please! Don’t let that opinion get around! You’d ruin my reputation of an old curmudgeon!“

“No, really. How come you’re always so sarcastic and glum, especially around Zoe?”

“I guess you could say that she wrangles me,” he said in a sober voice. “We didn’t get along right from the start, and we’re Freshmen sponsors. At least, we can work together. It’s only on a social basis that we get on each other’s nerves. I guess it’s because we’re so different.”

“That’s odd. I see a lot about you two that’s alike.”

“Maybe we are too much alike. Maybe we see through each others' lies, the little things we do to make it through the day.”

“We all need defenses, Brian. You shouldn’t destroy each others' illusions.”

“The way you did Cramer’s? You’re probably on his enemy’s list after tonight.”

“If he thought it through, he’d put me on his friend’s list. Only a friend would try to straighten him out.”

“I repeat, he would be a real project for you, a real test of your skills at matchmaking. Watching your efforts with him might brighten up the winter for the rest of us.”

“Is that what you did to get through the long winter months out in out state Nebraska? Entertain yourselves?”

“That’s about it. We didn’t even have television until we moved into O’Neill. And what they say is true: you don’t miss something you’ve never had. I still don’t like TV very much.”

“So your ancestors were pioneers who crossed the rolling prairies in wagon trains?”

“One branch was. Another branch tried to stop them.”

She gave him a startled look. “You have Indian blood?”

“Let’s put it this way: Some of my people rode away from the Little Big Horn victorious. My great-grandfather was a full-blooded Sioux warrior with many scalps on his belt. Does that offend you?”

“Oh, golly, no! I think it’s interesting. My people were shopkeepers in England and farmers in Germany. I always wanted something like a Portuguese pirate on my family tree to make it interesting. But no such luck!”

“There you go again with that romantic streak again.” He frowned as he pulled his car into her driveway. “Your apartment is dark. Shouldn’t Bergetti be back by now?”

Jean frowned, too. “I’d think Fred Langley would have an early night on Saturday since Sunday is his busy day.”

They sat listening to the car motor purr.

“Do you know where they were going, Jean?”

“A movie at Fredericksburg. Oh, Brian, they should be back by now!”

He heard the rising panic in her voice. “Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

“But, where?!”

“They weren’t on Main Street just now,” Brian said as he backed out of the driveway.

“I wondered why you drove that way.”

Brian didn’t rise to the bait. “The church is nearby. And there’s always his place.”

“She wouldn’t go there. She wouldn’t do anything that stupid. Not in a small town.”

“She hasn’t been exactly bright when it comes to that guy,” he said grimly as he turned a corner. “Hard telling what she’d do.”

“My one educational teacher in college advised that we not do anything risqué in the town where we were teaching. He said to take our catting around somewhere else.”

“I think everybody got that advice. Some people seem to forget it, though.”

“Look!” Jean cried in relief. “Reverend Langley’s car is parked in front of the church, and I can see a dim light in the side windows. That’s where they are! Why are you stopping?”

“We’d better check. Something doesn’t feel right about this whole situation. He’s got too much of a hold on her. She can’t seem to think straight when she’s around him.”

“It’s spooky! The town’s so quiet,” Jean said as they walked toward the front door of the church.”

“That’s because it’s so late. S-h-h!” he cautioned as he gently opened the front door.

They slipped into the vestry and heard voices coming from the sanctuary. Carpeting cushioned their steps as they headed for the arguing couple standing near the pulpit.

“I don’t feel comfortable doing that, Frederick,” Zoe was saying.

“You either go away with me this coming weekend to Minneapolis, or I’ll smear your name in this town and make sure your teaching career is ruined forever.” He smirked. “Depending on your performance this weekend, I’ll consider marriage. You have to prove how obedient you can be.”

Jean gripped Brian’s arm.

“I hate you!” Zoe declared. “You’re no man of God.”

Langley smirked again. “You’ll love being a true disciple, my dear. Other women will envy you.”

“They can have you, gladly. But who would, after what I’ll tell them.”

“Who would believe you? Who would believe a desperate female over a minister trying to reform her out of the goodness of his heart?”

“Her friends would,” Brian answered, stepping out of the shadows. “Zoe, come back here with us.”

Zoe looked unsure of herself. She glanced at Langley.

“Zoe! Now!” Landis barked.

That seemed to wake Zoe up. She flew up the aisle, and Jean put her arms around her. Zoe was trembling.

“Jean! How--”

“We couldn’t find you. We traced you here.”

“I’m so glad! Thanks. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Do you believe me now about him?” Brian demanded in a voice heavy with anger. “He wants to control you.”

“Yes, Brian, I do,” Zoe answered meekly.

“Now this gentleman is trying to tell you what to do, Zoe,” Langley said sarcastically. “How does that make me different from him?”

“She’s got free choice with me, Langley, and she didn’t with you,” Brian answered.

“And we won’t make her feel apologetic about herself,” Jean chimed in.

“This is none of your business!” Langley roared. “You two, leave at once!”

“Nothing doing,” Brian growled. “You want a slave, not a wife. Better stop your threats to her, Langley. Leave her alone.”

Langley smirked as he took several steps toward them. “Are you planning on stopping me physically? I’m in great shape, while you--” He looked at Brian’s body and smiled contemptuously.

“I’ll give you a few licks that you’ll long remember.”

“Brian, no! Don’t get hurt. Not for me.”

“Yes, for you! And for every woman this bag of slime has ever intimidated.”

“I’ll smear you all!” Langley threatened. 

“And we’ll fight you,” Brian answered.

“You, and what army?” Langley sneered.

“Me, for starters,” a new voice said, and Robert Cramer stepped out of the shadows.

“Mr. Cramer!” Jean exclaimed and wondered if anyone else was back there.

“What are you doing here, Robert?” Langley asked in a condescending voice. “Won’t your mama be worried? It is late, you know. You better be running along home to her now.”

Cramer walked down the church aisle. “Don’t forget that my mother is on the church council, Langley, and that group will be very interested in what I tell them about your conduct with my faculty this evening.”

Langley blanched. “You’d go to the church council?”

“They’ve been watching you for awhile, and your performance this evening regarding members of the school faculty is a fine feather in your cap. You’ve put yourself out of the pulpit here. We don’t want you here anymore. This is not the image we want for our church or our town.”

Langley rallied. “The council wouldn’t believe a monk like you. You see harlots everywhere. You don’t know what the real world is.”

“I’m not the one on trial here. You can’t bully everyone. Resign while you still can and save yourself what dignity you can salvage. Tomorrow after services would be an excellent opportunity to resign. Come on, people,” Cramer said to his staff. “Let’s leave this, ah, gentleman, and I use the term loosely, to his thoughts. Remember, Langley, tomorrow.”

Brian took Zoe’s elbow. “Come on, Red.”

But Zoe clung to Jean, too, and the three of them wove awkwardly out of the church and down the sidewalk while Cramer followed them.

Jean looked back at Cramer. “How did you happen to find us?”

“I saw Mr. Landis’ car and wondered if there was a problem. It was awfully late to be in a church.”

“Thank goodness you checked on us!” Jean fell back to Cramer’s side as Brian helped Zoe into his car. “Thanks so much.”

“I‘m glad I could help.”

“Look, ah, I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier, back at the dance. I--”

“It was the truth, wasn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but I--”

He raised an eyebrow. “And I’m still a party pooper. Just ask Reverend Langley.”

Jean laughed, and her smile stayed in her voice. “I could’ve been kinder earlier. Thank you for everything.”

“I was just getting involved, the way you suggested. And you know what? It was exhilarating.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Jean said uncertainly. Mr. Cramer wasn’t mad at her. “Well--”

“I think your friends are waiting, Miss Harnett.”

“Oh, yes. Well, they are, aren’t they? Thanks again, Mr. Cramer. And good night.” She ran for the car before Cramer could answer.

As Brian drove down the street, he said, “Sounds like you’ve started your campaign.”

“What campaign?” Jean asked.

Brian jerked his head backwards toward the spot where they’d left Cramer. “You know, THAT campaign.”

“Oh! You mean Mr. Cramer.”

“What about Mr. Cramer?” Zoe asked between them.

“Jean wants to humanize him.”

“Are you really up to that, Jean? Two challenges? Cramer? And Landis?”

“What are you saying, woman?! And about someone who just rescued you?! Where’s your gratitude? By all rights, you should be kissing my hands in thanksgiving.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Landis! Gratitude goes only so far!”

Jean smiled. She understood what Brian was doing by deliberately goading Zoe into anger. Zoe needed to keep fighting so she didn’t forget how.

Zoe entered their apartment, but Jean held back at the door. She reached over and kissed Brian on the cheek.

“Thanks, Buster Brown.”

“Don’t do that too often, Harnett, or I’ll forget we’re friends and do something about it.”

Jean studied him. “I think we both know we’ll never be nothing more to each other than friends.”

Brian sighed. “For all that romantic streak, you still can be damned logical.” He nodded past Jean‘s shoulder. “Take care of the Amazon.”

“Thanks for helping to take care of her yourself.” 

“Heaven knows someone needed to help her,” he mumbled as he stared at the door that was ajar.

“You’re her friend, too, even if you won’t admit it.”

He looked back at Jean. “I would’ve tried to stop anyone from doing something stupid, but that doesn’t make us friends.”

Jean sighed to herself. “Well, at least you helped. And Zoe is grateful, I’m sure. I know that I am.”

Brian nodded at the door. “Maybe you better get in there. She’s probably bawling her eyes out and needs some sympathy.”

“You’re right.”

“And while you’re at it, give her a dose of common sense. She needs that, too.”

Jean slapped his arm. “There you went and ruined your new image.”

“Correction. I didn’t want to ruin my old image.”

Jean shook her head. “I don’t know about you. Good night.”

“Good night. Friend.” He got a mischievous grin on his face. “If you ever want to change that status, let me know.”

“Good NIGHT, Brian,” she said firmly.

Despite what he said, Jean felt he really want to be nothing more than friends with her. She sensed that he didn’t want to get too close to anyone and he felt safe with Jean. But not with Zoe. Hmm.

 

Zoe baked two small chocolate cakes on Sunday afternoon.

“What’s in it?” Brian asked suspiciously on Monday morning as he looked at the cake in his hands.

“That’s a fine thing to want to know! Mr. Cramer acted like a pleased school boy with his cake.”

“What does he know?!”

“I’ll take it back then!”

“No, you don’t!”

They wrestled for the cake until Brian held it over Zoe’s head. She reached forward to tickle him.

“You do, Bergetti, and you’ll be wearing this cake.”

Zoe studied him. “You wouldn’t.” But she backed off.

“Knew you wouldn’t,” he smirked. “’Cause you knew I’d enjoy it too much.”

“What?” she dared. “My wearing the cake or my tickling you?”

Brian frowned, then his face cleared. “I’ll share the cake. And since I’m such a gentleman, I’ll let you and Jean have the first pieces.”

“Gentleman! Ha! You’re still suspicious.”

“I thought I was doing rather well, didn’t you, Jean?”

Jean laughed and held up her hands. “I’m neutral.”

 

“Daddy, I want to buy a car. Will you help me choose one?” Jean announced at the breakfast table that next Saturday morning.

Frank Harnett set down his coffee cup. “Sure, I will, honey. What kind of car do you want?”

“I’d like it to be new, but I think I’d better buy a good second-handed one.”

“That’s a good idea, Jean. You’ll have to get a loan through GMAC, no matter what you do. But it won’t be as large a loan for a used car.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Why have you decided to get a car now?”

“I suppose that getting my driver’s license convinced me. Besides, I can’t expect my friends to chauffeur me around indefinitely, especially with play practice starting soon.”

Frank smiled. “Then I think we better go see Charlie Ferguson. He’ll ask a fair price, Jean. After all, you’ll be the third generation of Harnetts he’s dealt with.”

Later, Frank accompanied Jean as she drove her blue, two-year-old Plymouth out on the highway ‘for a proper spin,’ as Frank said.

“Craig can follow me to Canton a few times to build up my confidence. He’ll be headed this way, anyway, to see Brenna.”

“Won’t people back in Woodstock get the wrong idea about you and Craig? They‘re always seeing you two leaving together for the weekend.”

Jean shrugged. “Whose business is it back there?”

“In a town as small as Woodstock?” Frank laughed. “You’d be amazed, honey. You’d be amazed.”

 

Jean paused with her hand on the light switch. The float with its hundreds of white and colored tissues stuck into a chicken-wire frame stood ready for the Homecoming parade tomorrow afternoon. Jean shivered. Now that the students were all gone, the huge tin shed seemed cold and lifeless and unfriendly. But how much talking and laughing had filled it the past week while the students had built the float.

Tomorrow’s forecast called for clear, crisp fall weather that sounded perfect for an afternoon parade down Woodstock’s main street and an evening football game.

Jean hurried to her car. She had to grab a quick supper in order to be back at the schoolhouse for this evening’s pep rally around a bonfire.

 

Craig escorted Jean to the Homecoming dance following the game. The school gym was a sea of sweaters for everyone with plaid skirts for the girls and dress slacks for the boys.

“Is it just me?” Craig asked. “Or are people staring at us?”

“Not only that, but they’re talking about us, too.”

“But, why? All we’re doing is dancing together.”

“That’s it, dear boy. Rumor has it we’re dating.”

“You mean, they think, that you and I are, ah--”

“That’s right. They think that we are ‘ah.’”

Craig grinned. “Wanna have some fun? We could really give them something to talk about.”

“Sounds great. But our illustrious leader might disapprove of our behavior.”

They looked at Robert Cramer talking to a group of boy students on the sidelines.

“I wonder if he ever dates?” Craig asked.

“The Great Stone Face? Having a human emotion?! Never!”

 

After the excitement of Homecoming was over, Jean felt depressed. And cloudy weather of late October didn’t help any, either.

Jean sat huddled on the rickety stool in the partitioned corner of the basement storeroom of Woodstock School. The bare electric bulb threw off a gray half-light filtered through the ugly, grimy window before her. Rain fell gently against the filthy pane, and some of the moisture struck Jean’s face. She had raised the window slightly to admit the washed air so it could cleanse the dusty, stale air in the small room. But the rain had also hinted at the approach of wintry weather, and a chill ran through Jean as she hugged herself against the cold.

It was a gray afternoon and she was in a gray mood. Company was the last thing she wanted, mainly because she knew she wouldn’t be very good company herself. Laughter wouldn’t help, and neither would crying. She was simply indifferent to life and she wished that the world would go away and just leave her to her self-pity.

Jean didn’t get this way very often. She hated the ‘blues’ and all of the melancholy, introverted, self-centered feelings that it represented. She knew she should seek out her friends and let them bolster her mood with bright chatter and warm food, but right now all she wanted to do was to wallow in her aloneness.

Half-thoughts floated through her mind. Of that gray Saturday one fall when Daddy had taken her and Brenna fishing at the lake, and the rain had forced them to stay on the porch of the cabin all afternoon. They had been disappointed, but what a relaxing, reflective day they had spent together.

Or that rainy October when she’d been down with measles and had drunk hot chocolate and listened to a crackle, old radio with her grandmother while her family had attended a college football game at State. She should’ve paid more attention to her grandmother because they lost her that winter. But Grandmother Evens had been half-sick and crotchety herself that day and had not been very good company.

The rain struck the window and ran down the pane in lazy, disinterested rivulets. Jean knew that outside the tree leaves were drying up and dying. Frost had already touched them, but that wasn‘t the only reason why the leaves were dying. The trees themselves were pulling their energy and resources to their cores so that the tree itself could survive the coming cold weather. In order to survive, the trees were sacrificing their leaves. It was a time for calculated death.

No, it was fall, alright. And, as in nature, the year had to die in Jean, too. And, as in nature, it died hard for her.

At last, Jean shook herself. She couldn’t sit here all night. Soon, Zoe would begin to wonder what had happened to her. They were to be picked up by Brian and Craig, and all of them would eat together and catch a movie. She couldn’t be late for their evening.

Jean had responsibilities and a life that she had to get back to living. She couldn’t sit here wrapped up in melancholy. But, oh, how she enjoyed it once in awhile!

Finally, she pulled herself off the tall stool and sighed. If someone found her down here in the storeroom, he’d think she was crazy. And that someone would probably be Chet, the school janitor, wondering who had invaded his dominion or left a light burning.

This old building had more nooks and crannies than the school district could afford to heat, but the electorate wouldn’t ratify the necessary bonds to erect an efficient, modern structure for education. The problem was the same everywhere in rural areas with declining populations: a lot of people who voted were retirees on fixed incomes without children in school. They didn’t want their taxes increased. So the children, the hope of the future, were cheated out of the latest in educational methods and materials.

Jean felt sorry for the children, but she loved the interesting features of this old building. That was part of the romantic, impractical side of her. A new structure with the latest heating system and teaching tools would be more comfortable, but not as picturesque.

She sighed and took one more look around the shabby corner of the basement. She hadn’t found what she’d been needing so she would have to talk to Chet and Brian.

She lowered the window and the room immediately closed in around her. It had lost its melancholy, and therefore its charm. Now, it was simply a small, dark storeroom.

Jean shut the door to the storeroom and started up the basement stairs when she glanced up and saw Robert Cramer standing on the top step looking down at her.

“Mr. Cramer. What are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same thing. I was headed home from downtown when I saw a light in the basement. I could see your car out front and wondered what you were doing down here at this hour. May I be of some assistance?”

“Not yet,” she answered as she reached his side at the top of the stairs and fell into step beside him as they walked down the hallway. “I was checking to see what lumber and building materials were in storage downstairs.”

Humor shone in his eyes as he glanced at her. “Don’t tell me that you build things, too? Is carpentry a sideline, or simply a hobby?”

She grinned. “Hardly. Play sets need to be built.”

“Here I thought we’d purchased more than we contracted for when we hired you. Perhaps you’d want to teach a shop class. You’ll have Mr. Landis demanding equal time. He’ll want to diagram sentences or correct a stack of themes, just so you don‘t get ahead of him.”

The image of Brian at the chalkboard explaining sentence structure to befuddled Freshmen made Jean laugh.

“That’s better. You were looking pretty dour when you walked out of that storeroom just now.”

“I was enjoying a melancholy mood brought on by the rain, thank you. And now you’ve gone and spoiled it.”

“Melancholy is all a part of your romantic nature, isn’t it? You see the death of the year, and I see leaves to rake.”

“Don’t be realistic. You need poetry in your soul.”

He pushed open the heavy outer door and leaned against it to allow her to leave. She had to pass quite close to him as she walked outside.

“Thank you,” she murmured demurely.

“I never was very poetic,” he said as he took her arm to steady her on the leaf-slick parking lot. “Science is too strict.”

“Think so?” She stopped at her car, lifted her head, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. “Smell that air? Feel the rain on your face? It’s all poetry.”

“It’s all nature. And you’re getting wet. You better be on your way before the rain gets heavier.”

She smiled. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Cramer.”

 

“So, have you ever gone on a hay ride, Jean?”

“Our church did, once,” Jean answered as she and Zoe pulled on warm clothing. “And, oh, yes, we did at camp one year, but it seemed kind of odd since it was July.”

“Well, at least you’ve had more experience than I’ve had.” Zoe donned a heavy sweatshirt. “Being from the city, my only experience was the movie versions with horses pulling the wagon. My first real hay ride was last year’s.”

“We won’t have a horse?” Jean sounded disappointed.

Zoe grinned. “Afraid not. Farmer Braun has traded all of his horses in for H.I. tractors.”

“You sound like a farmer. What are H.I. tractors?”

“International Harvesters. The red ones. Aitches. The knowledge goes with the territory. It’s amazing what this city gal learned last year out here in the boonies.”

Jean grabbed her burgundy bench warmer. “We better get to the school house! They’ll leave without us.”

“No, they won’t. They want as many sponsors as they can get. That generally means the young teachers, and, oh, yes, Rose Paget’s entourage.”

The sun had already set, and strong, wild reds and yellows streaked the western sky.

“Oh, just look, Zoe! A warrior sunset!”

But Zoe was looking at Jean’s glowing face, not at the sunset. If Zoe didn’t know any better, she’d swear that Jean was only six years old. How wonderful to look at the world through the trusting eyes of a child, instead of the jaded eyes of a skeptical adult like herself, Zoe thought.

The wind had risen slightly, Zoe noticed as they got out of her car at the school.

“B-r-r!” Jean said. “This bench warmer is going to feel good!” Her face glowed with excitement.

Zoe sighed to herself. This was going to be a long night if she had to spend it with Jean’s enthusiasm. Thank goodness, Brian and his sarcasm would be along to put things in their proper prospective. Between Jean and Brian, the evening should be properly balanced.

“Good evening, ladies,” Craig greeted with a smile. “It’s going to be chilly tonight, but not too chilly. Just chilly enough.”

“Chilly enough for couples to cuddle?” Jean asked and nudged his arm.

“I think that’s what we’re here to prevent,” Brian said without interest.

“You should be right in your element,” Zoe said in an equally weary voice. “You probably like to break up romances.”

“There’s enough teenage pregnancies in the world today without the school providing romantic situations like we are this evening.”

“What can kids do on a hay wagon with other people in attendance?”

“Everything, but, Flame Hair. Everything, but.”

Zoe’s face reflected the red sunset, or was that a deep blush? “You sound like you speak from experience.”

“I didn’t grow up in rural Nebraska for nothing.” He turned to the sounds of an approaching tractor. “Here comes our chariot now.” He frowned. “Is that Cramer driving that tractor?”

 

Sure enough, it was Robert Cramer who pulled the wagon into the school yard, cut the tractor engine, and swung his leg over the steering wheel to climb down from the tractor and join the teachers.

“Well, has our group gathered yet?” he asked with excited interest. His face was glowing from the spanking wind and excitement. He’d rarely looked so animated.

If only he didn’t also look so incredibly stupid. Not only was his buffalo plaid coat too large for him, his cap with the ear floppers down made him look flat-headed. His horn rimmed glasses stuck out and seemed too prominent for his face.

“I borrowed my brother’s coat. It’s a little large, but it’s all wool. Mother thought I should wear this fur-lined cap, too. Heaven knows I don’t have enough hair to keep my head warm. And I’ll be facing the breeze. I won’t be able to snuggle down in the hay the way the rest of you will do.”

“It looks like a very appropriate outfit,” Craig said. 

The other teachers chimed in with their agreements. Nobody was going to risk saying too much for fear of setting off general laughter.

“I didn’t know you could drive a tractor,” Jean said.

Cramer grinned. “I didn’t spend all my time in town when I was small. My granddad saw to it that all of his grandchildren could do farm work. Sometimes, I think I’d like to buy a farm and forget about the rest of the world.”

“Could you support yourself?” Craig asked.

“That’s the trouble,” Cramer said with another grin. “Granddad didn’t teach me THAT much about farming.” He rubbed his hands together. “Well, let’s get the kids loaded. Mr. Landis, I assume you are willing and able to take over tractor driving duties if I become incapacitated?”

“I haven’t driven a tractor in years, but I expect it’s a lot like bicycle riding. You never forget how.”

“That’s right. All right, everybody! Let’s get loaded!” He walked toward the tractor as students and teachers alike approached the wagon.

Brian leaned his head between Jean and Zoe as he prepared to hand them up to Craig who already stood on the hay wagon. “I bet Cramer thinks the only thing people do in the hay is try to keep warm.”

Jean giggled as Brian boosted her up by the elbow.

“Careful, Landis,” Zoe warned as he took her arm. “Don’t get carried away showing off your muscles and toss me over the wagon.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I aim to take good care of you. You have to fix my plate at the wiener roast, you know.”

“I have to do what?!” Zoe demanded as she spun to confront him. She forgot she was halfway on the wagon and squeaked slightly as she lost her balance and began to fall.

Brian caught her around the waist and held onto her in midair for a maddening moment. “Careful, Red. Don’t hurt yourself until AFTER you’ve fixed my supper.”

“Why, you--”

Brian gave her an upward push. “Here, Martin. Catch! Don’t let her fall on you. She’s heavy.”

“Why, you!” Zoe sputtered.

Brian pulled himself up on the wagon. “All aboard!” he called to Cramer, then found a seat beside the other three teachers.

The hay wagon took off with a gentle lunge and lumbered down the road toward Newman Lake, about three miles from town. The night was perfect, Jean thought as she snuggled down beside Craig. If only Brenna could be along, the evening would be perfect. Jean hoped the romance between Brenna and Craig would continue to flourish.

Scattered conversation and shouts of laughter were heard from the wagon. Jean felt very mellow and close to everyone in the party.

Soon a bonfire could be seen in the dark. Cramer headed for it and stopped the tractor beside it.

Craig handed Jean down to Brian who caught her.

“Thanks, Brian.”

“I like relish and catsup on my wieners,” Brian told Zoe as he set her on the ground.

“Oh-h-h!” she muttered in disgust as she marched past Jean.

“And potato chips! Don’t forget the chips!” Brian called as he hurried to catch up with her.

Jean and Craig grinned at each other in the light from the bonfire. Brian and Zoe were in rare form. It was going to be one of THOSE nights.

Cramer appeared beside Jean and Craig. He’d shucked the buffalo plaid coat and the fur-lined cap with the lowered ear floppers. Instead he wore a light jacket over a sweatshirt. The outfit was a vast improvement over the first one.

“That’s better! I got almost too warm coming out.”

“You wait for the return trip,” Jean prophesied. ‘You’ll be happy you have that warm clothing.”

Before long, wieners were skewered on sharpened sticks and held over the open flames of the bonfire. Students and faculty began attacking the savory food that tasted so much better in the crisp air.

Jean and Zoe began digging bottles of soda pop out of a cooler.

“Here’s a bottle of 7-Up for you, Zoe.”

“Where’s the Coke, Jean? I’m needing something with some hair on its chest.”

“Were you paging me, Red?” Brian asked, suddenly at her elbow.

“Back off, Landis. I’ll let you know when that miracle will happen when I’m needing you.” Under her breath, she said to Jean. “That’ll be a very, very cold day in you-know-where.”

“Where’s the pop opener?” Brian asked.

“You men were in charge of the pop,” Zoe answered.

“Pop,” Brian said with a gesture that took in the soft drinks. “Nobody said anything about openers.”

“Don’t you think that would’ve been fairly obvious, Landis? I declare, we women took care of all the food. All you men had to do was bring the--”

Brian gestured again. “Pop.”

“Is there a problem?” Cramer asked, walking up.

“No pop opener,” Zoe answered.

“Wait!” Jean pulled a small purse out of her coat pocket, dug through the contents, and extracted a piece of flat metal with a punch on one end and a cap remover on the other. “Church key!” she said with triumph.

“I’m not even going to ask why you carry something like that,” Brian mumbled.

“But we’re glad you do,” Cramer said quickly. “Otherwise, we’d all go thirsty.”

“We’d have to use our teeth to open the bottles,” Brian mumbled. “And my teeth are bad enough without doing that.”

“Too bad about your teeth,” Zoe said. “You’ll have to miss Jean’s brownies.”

“Brownies?! I’ll take my chances, Woman! Let me at them!”

Cramer and Craig showed equal interest as they grinned in anticipation.

“I didn’t know you were going to bring brownies, Miss Harnett,” Cramer said with an animated smile. “Here, let me lift that container for you.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Cramer. They’re really not all that heavy, though.”

“You just let me be the judge of that now, Miss Harnett. I don’t mind being in charge of them, at all.”

“Wait a minute there!” Brian intervened. “Watch where you go with those brownies! Jean, have you counted them?”

“Why don’t you two both be in charge of them?” Jean asked with a laugh.

“Never mind that,” Zoe said. “Here, Landis.”

“What’s this?” he asked as he stared at the filled plate that Zoe was offering to him.

“Your supper. Relish and catsup on your wieners. Baked beans on the side. And, oh, yes, potato chips. Don’t look at it so suspiciously. It’s just a plate of food. You wanted me to fix it for you. Remember?”

Brian turned his head to the side. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you asked me to.”

“I don’t trust you. Jean!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Landis!” Zoe declared. “Eat!”

Jean winked at Craig and tried to make her face sober as she turned. “Yes, Brian?”

“I don’t trust her. Do you trust her?”

Jean’s eyes sparkled. “Why, yes, Brian, I do. Watch.” She picked up a potato  
chip and ate it. “That chip was good.” She selected another one. “And that one, also.”

Craig picked up a wiener sandwich and took a bite. “Hmm. That’s a good bite.”

Brian grabbed the plate. “Hey! That’s my supper!”

Craig stopped chewing. “Do you want this bite back?”

Zoe handed Brian an opened bottle of soda pop. “Here, Landis,” she sang in silvery tones. “I opened this bottle, just for you.”

“Give it to Martin so he won’t choke on MY sandwich.”

Jean grasped his arm. “Come on, Brian. I’ll fix you another wiener.”

Brian threw his arm around Jean’s waist. “Jean’s MY date for tonight. You two misfits will just have to entertain each other the best you can. Come on, Jean, let’s let these plebeians muddle through the best way they can without us.”

“But, Brian,” Jean protested as she struggled out of his arms. “I have to help hand out the soda pop.”

Brian stopped and gave her a disappointed look. “Are you going to forsake me, too?”

Jean fought to keep from grinning. “Alas, I have to. You know how it is when Duty calls. A higher destiny rules my heart and hand this evening.”

Brian slumped. “How can I, a mere mortal, expect to compete with Duty?” He turned toward Zoe. “I’ll have to settle for second best. Come on, Bergetti, you can fix me another wiener sandwich.”

“Well!” Zoe said with ruffled feathers.

“This one isn’t half bad. You just need a little more practice to do a decent job.”

“Well, I never!”

“Well, I was going to save your feelings and not admit that the sandwich tasted like you’d never fixed one decently before, but since you brought it up--”

“Landis, you’d better have any sandwich I fix for you screened for poison, because I will be tempted--”

“By me? Are you saying that I’m tempting to you?”

“I’m not that desperate, yet,” she said in a cold voice that signaled Brian he’d gone about far enough in his teasing. “Maybe when I’m ninety-five and senile.”

“I hope to be out of your reach by then.”

“In the meantime, you can practice making more sandwiches for me.”

“Oh-h-h, come on then!” She led him toward the fire.

They could be heard bickering the whole way.

“Are they like that all the time?” Cramer asked in amazement.

Jean managed to stop laughing in order to answer. “Yes.”

“They’re highly entertaining. Do they ever run down?”

“They haven’t yet,” Craig answered as he wiped happy tears from his eyes. “There’s never a dull moment when they’re along.”

“I can see that.” Cramer studied the couple at the fire. “I’m really enjoying myself this evening. Mother said I would.”

“Mother knows best,” Jean quipped. “Have you fixed your plate yet?”

“No. I was drawn over to your group by the bickering.”

“Well, come on! Let’s go get something to eat before everything’s gone!”

Later, they sat around the dying fire and toasted marshmallows.

“Here comes the hunter over the hill,” Cramer said softly.

“Where? What hunter?” Brian demanded. “What hill?”

“He’s talking about the constellation Orion, Landis.”

“I knew that,” Brian said, settling back against a tree. “I just wanted to see if you did, Red.”

“Granddad taught us about the constellations,” Cramer continued as if he wasn’t paying any attention to the bickering from Zoe and Brian. He caught on fast. “He said we’d never get lost if we knew the stars.” He grinned. “He never explained what we should do on a cloudy night.”

“Aim for the lights of Woodstock?” Zoe suggested.

“That sounds like a good suggestion,” Cramer agreed. He was delighted to be included in the good natured teasing. He stirred off his place on the log. “And I think it’s about time we were rounding up our wagon train and aiming back for the lights of Woodstock.”

The three senior boys who’d laid the original fire stayed behind to make sure it was dead out while their classmates and teachers climbed back aboard the hay wagon.

Jean settled beside Craig again, and Zoe sat on her other side. Brian sat facing them as the wagon slowly lumbered down country lanes.

“He’s taking the long way home,” Craig commented. “Woodstock’s over that way,” he said, pointing off to their left.

“He’s going to give us our money’s worth,” Zoe said.

“Wonder what he expects for a tip?” Brian drawled. “You girls better be putting on your thinking caps.”

“Jean saved him some brownies,” Zoe said. “That should do the trick.”

“She did?! I’m jealous. I’ll be hungry later, you know. Jean, I didn’t know you’d do something like that to me,” Brian protested. “It’s like a knife to the heart.”

“Stop bleeding all over the place. Jean saved some brownies for you and for Craig, too. I said you didn’t need any, but she’s got a soft spot in her heart for you. Personally, I think the soft spot is a little further up, in her head.”

“You leave Jean alone, Woman. She’s doing what’s fair and just. Of course, if Cramer doesn’t know about his brownies yet, I would volunteer to see that he gets them.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Zoe was quiet a moment. “Mr. Cramer has certainly loosened up,” she noted. “He seemed like one of the crowd tonight.”

“Maybe we finally got him in his element,” Brian mumbled. “He’s just a country boy at heart. He can even tell you the name of that teeny, tiny star that’s just peeking over the eastern horizon.”

“Brian,” Jean said softly. “That’s not fair. Mr. Cramer was trying hard tonight. He really enjoyed being part of our group. I expect it’s difficult being an administrator when you’re as young or younger than your staff. He knows he has to distance himself from us somewhat because of his position, and that doesn’t help him socially. And when you add in his natural reticence-- Well, you have to admire the amount of looseness he achieved tonight.”

“You’re right, Princess, he was trying hard. I’m sorry for making fun of him.”

“You can apologize to Jean! Why can’t you to me?!”

Jean saw it coming and wondered why Zoe couldn’t.

“Because I said something wrong to Jean, and I never have to you.”

“You, what?! Well, let me tell you....” 

And they were off and running.

They’d lightened the serious note of Jean’s speech. Was that the real purpose of their bickering? To keep from being serious?

Back at the schoolhouse, Zoe discovered that she had a flat tire. The three men helped her change it.

“You better get a new tire, Red. That one’s about bald. Hell, none of them are any good. Look at these tires, guys,” he said to Craig Martin and Robert Cramer. 

“That doesn‘t look good, Zoe,” Craig Martin agreed.

“That‘s right, Miss Bergetti,” Robert Cramer chimed in.

Landis was outraged. “Why do they let idiot women out on the road with bad tires?! Are you crazy, Woman?!”

“I can’t afford new tires!”

“They’re cheaper than a funeral,” Brian mumbled as he walked away. “Go without eating for awhile!” he called back. “But buy those tires! I’ll take you to Springfield myself if you don’t have new ones mounted by Monday!”

“Guess I’ll buy some tires this weekend,” Zoe grumbled.

“You better ride with Miss Harnett until you do,” Cramer advised. “How are your tires, Miss Harnett?”

Jean shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I’ll check them.”

“I’LL check them,” Craig volunteered. “I know what I’m looking for.” He glanced at Cramer as if to say that he agreed with Landis about women.

 

“Cramer really has joined our group,” Zoe said later. “He’s starting to sound like Landis. All three of them were pretty bossy about those tires. Who needs big brothers with those three around?”

Jean grinned. “It’s nice to be around guys who care for us and our welfare.”

“There you go again. Honestly, Jean, don’t you know anything about men? They like to feel like big shots around frail, little helpless things like us.”

Jean winked. “I know. Anything wrong with that?”

“You’re using female wiles.”

“Uh huh. Can’t hurt.”

“Which one are you after?”

“Gosh, I don’t know. Guess I’m just practicing. Cramer doesn’t interest me, and Brian and Craig are pals. I guess we’ll just have to take out to Dexter some night, or maybe even clear over to Springfield, and I’ll get in more practice. We can see what the prospects are available.”

“Now, you’re talking! This might not be such a dull winter, after all!”

“What would happen if we got in trouble while we were, you know, tomcatting around?”

“What kind of trouble?”

Jean shrugged. “Oh, barroom brawls. Raids on bars. Locked up all night in the drunk tank. You know, the usual thing.”

“Honey, you travel in a faster circle than I do. You’re way out of my league.”

“No, I’m serious. What kind of thing would cause such serious trouble that a teacher would lose her job around here ?”

“You’d be amazed. It really depends on where you’re located and what the place will tolerate, or finds out about. One of my Education teachers said to never party in the town where you’re working.”

Jean laughed. “One of mine said the same thing. Wonder if they found out the hard way?”

“Either they or someone they knew did.”

“In other words, leave the party animal stuff behind at college graduation.”

“Right. Then there’s the serious stuff. I heard about a beginning teacher who got knocked up by a senior boy. It ruined her career and caused all kinds of trouble in school. The student body felt sorry for the teacher and took it out on the woman who tried to replace her.”

“A schoolroom is such a volatile place. And we have to be so careful with those young minds that are still forming. I hope I can be a good influence.”

“You already are, Jean. I hear a lot of favorable remarks about you from parents. You know they are simply reflecting what they’ve heard their children say about you.”

Jean chewed her lip. “Just so the administration is favorable, also.”

“I know that Cramer is hard to read sometimes, but I think he supports you.”

“Yes, and sometimes that can be a scary thing.”

 

Jean started the 16 mm. film projector on rewind and turned on the light switch, then moved to the front of the classroom so she could be heard over the noise of the projector. “So, what did you think of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow? Josh?”

Josh shifted and blinked in the normal light. “It’s a pretty story meant to scare the girls so they’ll hug guys for protection.”

A titter of laughter rippled through the classroom.

“Perhaps,” Jean mused. “And that has its purpose, too. It’s listed under female wiles. Don’t go exposing all of our secrets, Josh.” More laughter was heard. “But, sometimes, we’re all a little frightened by strange noises, especially at night. Logic and reason can take a backseat in the dark. Then we begin to wonder about things that go bump in the night. Lisa?”

The shy girl slowly lowered her hand and she spoke softly. “I saw a ghost once.”

“Yeah, the ghost of Rudolph Valentino coming to steal you away to the casbah,” a classmate spoke up.

The class enjoyed a laugh at Lisa’s expense as the girl stared down at her hands.

“That’s hardly fair, Jeff. How do you know what Lisa really saw? She just might be more sensitive than you.”

“Do you really believe in ghosts and all that kind of stuff, Miss Harnett?”

“I believe in the possibility, Jeff. Never close your mind to the possible. Just because you’ve never had a psychic experience, doesn’t mean that they don’t occur.”

“Does this discussion have anything to do with Halloween being next week?”

Jean smiled. “There’s a strong correlation; yes.”

“I expect you want us to write themes about ghosts,” Jeff said with a sigh.

“Not unless you really don’t want to,” Jean answered. “But I don’t want blood and guts, gore and screams. Real paranormal experiences are a lot calmer. And in many ways, scarier. Sarah?”

“Have you ever seen a ghost, Miss Harnett?”

The room stayed quiet as the class waited for Jean’s answer. “No, but I’ve smelled one.”

The projector finished winding the film, and the end of the reel snapped against the loaded film. Students jerked with the sudden noise. Someone reached over and shut off the machine.

“Thank you, Jackie.”

“What do you mean, you smelled a ghost?”

“Just that, Jeff. I was visiting my grandparents for a week to celebrate my ninth birthday. I felt very grown up, sleeping all by myself in the room that had been my Aunt Helen’s when she was growing up. All went well until Saturday afternoon when it started raining and I couldn’t play outside. I decided to explore the attic. The usual accumulation of family junk was stored up there, and I was having a field day going through old boxes of clothes and photographs when I became aware of smelling roses. And the smell got stronger, the further down I dug. It was a heavy, cloying scent and became stronger the further I dug. At last it nearly smothered. I went downstairs and told my grandmother. She looked a little startled, but followed me back to the attic. The smell of roses still hung faintly on the air. She suggested we go to the kitchen for cocoa. She told me that old houses retain memories, some visual, some audio, some nasal. I chose to think that the spirit that visited me that rainy afternoon had once been a lovely lady who wanted to relive a past that I was digging through. She was probably my great-grandmother and meant me no harm. Lisa?”

“You said that an old house can retain memories. When I saw the ghost, could it possibly have been just a memory?”

“Exactly. Just a memory that keeps playing over and over, like a stuck record. Maybe something highly emotional like a death in the family made such an impression that the house can’t rid itself of the memory.”

“Then the ghost wasn’t aware of me.”

“Probably not.”

Lisa looked greatly relieved. “Maybe that explains why I felt like I was interfering, almost like I was trespassing on someone’s privacy.”

“You were witnessing a spirit in agony and that is always embarrassing to spy on someone or something defenseless and vulnerable.”

“Could it have become belligerent with me if it had realized that I’d seen it?”

Jean wished she knew the answer to that one, for her own peace of mind, as well as Lisa’s. “I don’t know, Lisa. You’ve raised an interesting question.”

“Well, what is the answer?”

Jean heard the frustration, as well as the skepticism in Jeff’s voice. “We’re still searching, Jeff. Maybe somebody of your generation will solve that riddle. Maybe somebody in this class. Maybe even you. Maybe we’ll never know, until we reach the Other Side. Then all will be revealed to us. That is one of the promises of our Christian religions.”

The bell rang, and students blinked as if coming out of a trance.

“Read Rip Van Winkle for tomorrow! Be sure to read it ahead of time!” Jean called over the noise of students stirring. “And think about an essay on paranormal activity. Talk to your parents and friends and get their thoughts on the subject.” 

“You’re giving us a good dose of this, aren’t you?”

“It’s part of our heritage, Jeff,” Jean said as he lingered by her desk as other students filed out.

“So is Adolph Hitler. Do you think it’s important to study his life?”

“I think we can’t afford to forget what he did.”

Jeff grinned and nodded his head. “The lessons of the past are studied so we don’t make the same mistakes again, right?”

“Exactly! You’re on an interesting topic, Jeff. Why don’t you explore why we have to remember ghost stories and Adolph Hitler?”

Jeff’s eyes twinkled. “Doggone, if you don’t have me hooked, Teach. I think my folks might have some great input on this topic, also.”

Jean grinned. “Great! I can’t wait to read what you have to say.”

Jeff cocked his head at her. “You’re brighter than you act.”

“I’m sneaky. Now, get on to your next class, or you’ll be late. You don‘t want to have to explain to Mr. Landis that you were exchanging ghost stories.”

His grin deepened in admiration. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her eyes followed him with fondness as he walked out the door. It was students like Jeff who was making this year worthwhile for Jean. Get the thinkers, and get them to thinking.

 

By fifth hour, word had spread about the topic discussed in the morning classes, especially in Jean Harnett‘s English classes.

“We want to tell ghost stories, too!” her afternoon students demanded.

Their enthusiasm momentarily threw Jean off-stride, then she quickly recovered. “Okay. But they have to be true experiences. At the first gory plot from a B-movie, we’ll go back to participles.”

A collective groan went through the class, but the students followed the rules. Jean was amazed at the variety of psychic experiences related and the number of students who were sensitive enough to receive them. She could tell by the hesitancy of some students that they were afraid of ridicule. Perhaps they’d never been brave enough to speak up before, or trusting enough, to recount their strange encounters with other worldly beings. But nobody came right out and called the conversing students weird. Genuine interest in unexplained phenomenon apparently ran high. 

And experiences were more common than expected. And, as the stories continued, the more authentic they sounded.

“There’s a haunted house in Springfield.”

The whole class held its breath. Jean realized that this must be quite a story.

“Suppose you tell us about it, Sherry.”

“Well, about fifty years ago, there was a rich man, a banker, who built a mansion for his beautiful, young wife. The house was three stories high with white columns in front of it. A porch and a balcony overlooked the front door. Magnificent parties were held there with important politicians and wealthy people in attendance. The home was the social hub of Springfield. But the young wife wanted more. She found a young, penniless musician to love her, and she was happy. But the husband suspected what was happening and surprised them one evening on the second floor balcony. He shot the young man who fell dead over the balcony to the driveway below. The wife attacked her husband in a rage. In the struggle that followed, the couple lost their balance and fell over the balcony, too. The husband died, but the wife survived. She was crippled, though, and spent many lonely years in the mansion. After her death, people began to see the three of them struggling on the second floor balcony. The people who live there now say the story is ridiculous, and don’t like people trespassing to see the ghosts.”

“I can hardly blame the current residents,” Jean said. “But that’s a good story, full of tragedy and never ending hate. Deep emotion is what sometimes links a spirit to a place. It sounds like that might be the case at that mansion.”

“We don’t really know, though, do we, Miss Harnett?”

“No, Larry, we don’t. I’m going to have you talk to your parents and other grown-ups, and write papers about your findings. Find out their opinions.”

There were hardly any groans in the class, and most of the students looked interested in the assignment.

 

Three days later, interest was running high on the subject of ghosts and haunted houses. Jean hoped that the weekend would stem some of the interest, but Monday brought in some of the first of the assigned papers. The reading was fascinating, and Jean realized she had struck upon a topic which had stirred the student body.

“What next, Miss Harnett? A seance?”

She tried to keep her eyes from twinkling, because he was obviously out of humor. “I hadn’t included that in my lesson plans, Mr. Cramer.”

“What is the value of this spectral research?”

“They’re writing, they’re interviewing, they’re thinking about something besides hot rod cars and the opposite sex. Psychic phenomena is part of their culture.”

“So are the local politics and litter bugging. I’d prefer that they were writing about those topics.”

“Those will come, Mr. Cramer. I simply want to stir up some interest, seeing as how we are this close to Halloween.”

He pointed a finger at her. “Just don’t sir up too much interest. I don’t want anybody getting in trouble over this assignment.”

“Yes, sir.” She had to agree with him on that point. She didn’t want any students to have problems because of her. She was supposed to be there to aid, not to abet, them.

 

Rose Page wore a grin from ear to ear. “Exactly what are you teaching in your classes, Jean?”

Jean put down her forkful of spaghetti. The cafeteria was noisy and she wanted to pay full attention to the pretty home economics teacher. “What have you heard I’m teaching?”

Rose laughed and rolled her pretty dark eyes. “Oh, about everything. And I think it’s great! You’re stirring up interest. It’s great for the kids. It stretches their minds and gets them interested in their world.”

“Interest isn’t the only thing I’ve stirred up. Mr. Cramer thinks I’ve gone too far.”

Rose waved away the notion. “He would. Don’t listen to Bob Cramer. He wasn’t in favor of my teaching home economics to the boys, either, but the guys are loving it. Bob just has to get used to a new idea, that’s all. Then when he see the value to education, he’ll be behind you all the way.”

It sounded odd hearing a teacher call her administrator by his first name, but Jean supposed that Cramer and Rose Paget might be friends off the school grounds. Rose would be older than Cramer, but Jean wondered if anybody, even Martha Clapsattle, would ever be as old as Robert Cramer acted sometimes.

“So Lacey and I wondered if you would like to go along on the expedition to Springfield. Jeff Braun will be with us, too.”

“Hmm? I’m sorry, Rose. What expedition is that?”

“Why, to see the Jenkins mansion for ourselves, of course. You’ve made it into quite a tourist attraction lately.”

“The Jenkins mansion? Oh, the haunted house in Springfield.”

“Yes, the place where the ghosts are supposed to be fighting on the balcony. I’ve always had an interest in the occult myself. So does Lacey.” Her eyes sparkled. “Sometimes it’s difficult to admit something like that. Society doesn’t always condone beliefs in things it can’t prove.”

“I believe in possibilities, Rose.”

Rose’s dark eyes snapped. “Anything’s possible, Jean. Thank you for helping to free us, even if it’s only in a small area. Everything helps. If you want to go with us, we’re leaving at seven this evening.”

 

“Good heavens, why would I want to go on a ghost hunt?” Zoe asked. “Brian Landis is spooky enough for me.”

“I just thought I’d ask, in case you wanted to get in on the fun.”

Zoe grinned. “It’s not my thing, but I can appreciate its appeal. I’ve heard students discussing that haunted house in Springfield, and it sounds intriguing. Several carloads have already driven up there to investigate.”

Jean chewed her lip. “I hope things don’t get out of hand. Mr. Cramer would have a cow.”

Zoe laughed. “Which would be a physiological first, but he might do it if he gets mad enough. No, you go ahead and have a good time. Just be careful and don’t get spooked. Or caught.”

“What do you mean?”

“The sudden crush of curiosity seekers might not be appreciated up at Springfield. The Jenkins mansion might be watched by more than people wanting to see ghosts. If the cops are around, the situation might get real spooky. And I don’t mean by ghosts.”

 

A few minutes before seven, Jean piled in the back seat of Lacey Griffith’s Volkswagen beetle. The air was just crisp enough to put a rosy glow in her cheeks, and she felt like she was on an exciting adventure.

“Hi! How’s everybody tonight?”

A chorus of greetings answered her.

She looked at her seat partner, Jeff Braun. “Jeff, at least you won’t have to convince me that you’re done your research. I’m your witness.”

Jeff grunted and smiled. Jean knew he felt self-conscious about being on this expedition with three teachers, but maybe they could make him feel at ease with them.

“I swear, Jean, you have piqued my interest,” Lacey said as he steered the small bug down the highway. “Would you believe I once heard of a guy, and I swear this is the truth, who....” And Lacey was off and running, recounting a marvelous ‘true’ ghost story from his home town. Before the telling was finished, Jeff had joined in the conversation and had forgotten to be self-conscious in his interest with the story.

 

It was well after dark by the time they reached Springfield.

Lacey laughed. “Does anybody know where this ghost mansion is located?”

“Fifth and Berkley,” Jeff answered. “Four blocks off Main, just past the Presbyterian Church, headed south.”

Lacey glanced in the rear view mirror and grinned at Jeff's shadowy figure. “I knew we brought you along for some reason.”

The teachers laughed, and Jean reached over and gave Jeff’s arm a reassuring squeeze. Tim looked at her with gratitude.

After a few moments, Lacey said, “Well, there it is.”

The Jenkins mansion was a formidable edifice with three-story high pillars commanding its face. Jean had expected it to be more intimidating, though. She had pictured a shadowy pile half-hidden by sinister trees, but this structure was bathed in spotlights.

“Oh, oh,” Lacey said as he scrunched down to study the mansion. “That rumor was true.”

Rose glanced at him. “What rumor was that?”

He returned her glance. “I’ve heard that the cops and the house owners are getting tired of so many people driving by and stopping. Now they’ve decided that they’re going to start arresting people. Spotlights were installed and.... There! See him? Our friendly man in blue is on duty.” He waved as they met and passed the patrol car. 

Then Lacey entertained his passengers with an imaginary conversation. “Good evening, Officer, just passing by. What haunted house? No, we’re looking for the Wocket family. No Wockets in Springfield, you say? Well, we must’ve gotten our information wrong. I’ll have to check my Wocket directory for my nearest Wocket. Thank you, Officer. You have a nice evening, too, Officer. Well, onward with our search for the Wockets. They certainly are an elusive bunch.”

Jean was grinning by this time and feeling the relief of everyone in the car.

“How about if we stop at the Dairy Queen on the way out of town, grab a cone, and call it a night?” Jean asked.

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Lacey said as he headed into the Dairy Queen parking lot. He sounded relieved that they hadn’t attracted the attention of the police. He’d gotten his fill of adventure for the night.

So had Jean. She didn’t need to have Cramer suggest that she might start putting less emphasis on psychic research in her classes. When he’d warned her about school people getting in trouble over her projects, she’d thought he meant students. Now she realized that three teacher might’ve caused a great deal of humiliation for the school if they’d been hauled in on trespassing charges.

 

There was no way that Cramer should’ve heard about that evening’s adventures, but, of course, he did. Two days later he joined Jean for a moment as she stood outside her classroom, and they watched the students pass between classes.

“I understand that the Springfield police are watching the Jenkins mansion for trespassers,” he mumbled beside her. “Some Woodstock High people have reportedly been among the sightseers who were nearly pulled in for questioning.” He glanced at her. “Do you know anything about that, Miss Harnett?”

She returned his glance and tried to look innocent, which she knew would be hard to do. She always overacted. “Really?”

“That would’ve upset me greatly, Miss Harnett.”

“I imagine it would’ve affected those Woodstock people greater, Mr. Cramer.”

“I doubt it. I would’ve had to defend them.”

“You shouldn’t borrow trouble, Mr. Cramer.”

“It’d be my responsibility,” he said as the bell rang.

“You need to sweeten up your life.” She leaned toward him and reached toward him. “Here. Have a kiss.”

Cramer jerked backwards and blushed beet red before he realized she was holding her closed fist out to him. He automatically reached out with his open hand, and she dropped a silver papered candy into his hand.

“Candy kisses,” she explained. “I’m handing them out for Halloween treats tonight.” She tilted her head and gave him an innocent look that couldn’t hide the twinkle in her eyes. “What did you think I was offering?”

He tore down the hallway and didn’t answer her.


	3. November

“You have an admirer,” Zoe announced as she popped one of the last of the Halloween candy kisses into her mouth and dropped onto the sofa at their apartment.

Jean looked up from the paper she was reading, and interest shone in her eyes. “Hmm. Tell me more.”

“You might not want to hear about it.”

Jean’s eyes widened. “It is a man, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, yes. Definitely.”

Jean relaxed. “No problem.”

“Yes, there is. He’s a Woodstock student.”

Jean frowned and laid down her red pencil. “Oh, dear.”

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Jeff Braun.”

“Jeff-- Oh, dear!”

“Isn’t he the one who went with you and Lacey and Rose on the Great Ghost Expedition to Springfield?”

“Yes. Oh, Zoe, I can see how it happened, why he thinks I’m interested in him, too. I am interested, but in his intellectual endeavors. He’s a good student, and I want to stimulate him.”

“That, you’re doing. Sorry,” Zoe apologized to Jean’s pained face. “This is no laughing matter. Crushes are serious stuff. They’re agonizing for the one smitten and embarrassing for the recipient. You’ve handled them before, haven’t you?”

Jean stood up and paced. “But that was older guys. Well, at least guys my own age. This is just a kid, a kid I like. But not in the romantic sense. I don’t want to crush him, Zoe, I just want him to see how hopeless his affection for me is.”

“Better develop an ‘affection’ for someone else then.”

“Brian?”

“Nobody would believe it.”

“Craig?”

“Your sister would kill you.”

“There’s nobody else. Rose has Lacey and Jack.”

“There’s always Robert Cramer.”

“Robert Cramer?! Not even a six-year-old child would believe that one, let alone a high school senior. And besides, Cramer wouldn’t play along.”

“We’re back to Craig then.”

“He’d do it just to please me.”

And he did. Craig squired her everywhere, which didn’t bother either one of them. Jean gradually saw the romantic light leave Jeff’s eyes to be replaced by a new interest in a certain Sophomore girl. He became a good friend to Jean and she helped him prepare for college. Occasionally, though, just occasionally, Jean wondered what would’ve happened if Jeff had been a little older and she had been a little younger. He was a nice young man, and that girl down in the Sophomore class better be good to him!

The other result of the little change was that people thought that she and Craig were dating steadily and becoming quite serious. After all, weren’t they seen leaving town together on Friday evenings? To many in Woodstock, they were a twosome and linked together in a more serious relationship than they realized.

 

Jean bombed down the hall and skidded to a stop in Cramer’s office.

“Hi!”

He looked at her grinning face and actually grimaced. “What can I do for you this afternoon, Miss Harnett?”

“I just wanted an okay on this project that I‘m planning--” Her voice trailed off as she saw his dull eyes and the effort it was taking for him to concentrate on her problem. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“I’m just a little tired, that’s all. Now, which project--”

“Tired? Nonsense!” She rounded the desk. “You look sick.” Her hand touched his forehead, and he closed his eyes with the cool touch. “Why, you’re burning up! What is it? A cold? The flu? I bet you’ve run yourself down, and now you’ve caught the first thing to come along, haven‘t you?”

“It’s just a slight fever--”

“Dull eyes. Shaky hands.”

“I do not have shaky hands!”

“Then hand me that pencil.”

He grabbed the lead pencil and shoved it toward her. She didn’t take it and he continued to hold it out to her. In a moment, the palsy started, weakly at first, then violently.

Cramer slammed the pencil on his desk and was very irritated that she had discovered his illness.

“Okay, so I’m sick!”

“Don’t get upset, Mr. Cramer.” Her voice was low and soothing. “You don’t have to apologize for illness. Everyone gets sick once in awhile. You’re no exception to the rule. Just go home and go to bed.”

“Just like that, huh? And who’s going to look after things around here?”

“Well, I doubt if the school will collapse if you leave. After all, Jimmy Adair-- I mean, Mr. Adair will still be here.”

“But a principal--”

“If this school needs a principal so badly I’LL be principal in your absence.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

“But I’m not teasing when I say that you need rest. Please go home. Please forget this school. Just try to get well. We care about our principal, and we want him healthy.”

He studied her earnest face and then he reached for the telephone. “Mr. Adair, please. Mr. Adair, this is Mr. Cramer. No, sir, I’m not feeling any better. In fact, I believe my condition has worsened. Sir, I cannot perform at my peak of efficiency and I feel that I am a drain on the efficiency of the school. So, if it is all right with you, I’ll go home and try to get over this malady. Yes. Believe me, if I don’t feel any better tomorrow, I’ll not be in at all. What changed my mind?” He glanced at Jean. “Well, you might say I was convinced by my own personal physician.”

Jean stared at him, but neither his face nor his voice betrayed his joke on Adair. How dry could humor get, she wondered. 

“Yes, sir, I’ll be sure to contact you tomorrow. Yes, sir, I will. Thank you, Mr. Adair. I appreciate your concern. Yes. Thank you. Goodbye. I will. Bye” He cradled the phone.

“Well, if you don’t need your own personal physician for anything further, I have some work to do in my classroom. I think you can continue under your own steam,” she declared and whirled to stomp from the office.

“Wait! Please don’t be angry--” he begged as he jumped to his feet. Dizzy from the sudden movement, he grasped the desk and closed his eyes against the revolving world. “I didn’t mean to insult you. And I do appreciate your concern, too.”

“Hey, you really are sick!”

“Please accept my apology.”  
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Sure. Here, sit down.” She grabbed his arm and eased him into the chair. “There. Better?”

“That happens every time I make a joke. People get mad.”

“Will you just forget it?! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. But there are other things to worry about besides your taste in humor. How are you going to get home? You’re in no condition to drive.”

“I’ll call my mother.” He drew his hand back from the phone. “No, I can’t. She’s at Ladies’ Aid.”

“Well, her son needs her aid more than a bunch of chatty women.”

“See? You can tell a joke and nobody gets mad.”

“I didn’t get mad. I just thought you were criticizing me for interfering.”

“At times, Miss Harnett, your interference comes as a blessing.”

“Can I quote you next time you get exasperated with me?”

He tried standing again and she grabbed his arm.

“I’m just so dizzy--”

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“But--”

“This is my free hour and I’ll be back in tons of time for my next class.”

They navigated the empty halls rather slowly. Cramer wove, leaning heavily on Jean. Normally, ten idlers would be wandering the halls, but today they must have been busy because the halls were empty.

The stairs were the most difficult part of their trek. At each step, Jean thought Cramer would lose his balance and fall. But he grasped Jean tightly around the waist, and that hold on her apparently kept him from falling.

Halfway down the steps, Jean smiled in relief as she spotted someone approaching.

“Chet! Oh, Chet! Come, help me!” Jean called to the janitor.

When Chet saw the trouble, he came running and grabbed Cramer’s other arm.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I’ve been, ah, sniffing glue.”

“You sure sound drunk, all right, Mr. Cramer. Are you sure it was glue? I’ll have to go up to your office more often.”

“Sure, Chet. I hand it. Out free.”

“Well, there’s one thing for sure. For a little woman, Miss Harnett can sure drink you under the table.”

But Jean saw Chet’s worried eyes as he looked at her over Cramer’s bent head.

After a bit of difficulty, they finally managed to push Cramer into her car.

“Can you make it all right, Jean?” Chet asked in low tones as he glanced at Cramer slumped in the seat.

“I think so, Chet. I didn’t know he was this ill, though. Would you call Doc Albright and have him meet us at the Cramer home?”

“Sure can. Take care of him now.”

“I plan to, Chet. Thanks for the help.”

“Anytime.” He glanced at Cramer again with worry. “Just take care of him. Okay?”

“Will do. I’ll let you know.”

She drove from the school parking lot and headed slowly through the streets. Cramer stared straight ahead.

“I feel so silly.”

“Why? Because people are helping you? A lot more people would help you, you know, if you’d just let them.”

He looked at her, then caught his head that had become dizzy with the sudden movement.

“What if you don’t dare trust people?”

“There are times when trusting people backfires, of course. But you have to keep trying. You can’t live in the world by yourself. You have to trust someone.”

“I can’t trust anyone.”

“That must be an awful feeling. I need people. I need to know that they need me and love me and miss me. I try to be indispensable so they will accept me.”

“And I try to be efficient so I can be self-reliant. If I depend on myself, I won’t be disappointed.”

“Boy, I don’t know who she was, but she must have really hurt you.”

“She? Why do you say a girl is involved?”

“Because that’s the way it generally works.”

“Well, it wasn’t a girl, that I can assure you.”

“But you’ve been hurt, deeply, deeply hurt. Won’t you let anyone help you get over that hurt?”

“I don’t know where you got such a romantic idea about my situation. I haven’t been deeply hurt by love. There’s worse things than being hurt, Miss Harnett. When nothing happens, the spirit dies. At least pain keeps the spirit alive.”

“Gosh! You need to get out of that morass you’re wallowing in.”

“What does my personal physician suggest?”

She looked at him quickly, then grinned. “All right, boss. I’ll mind my own business. But try opening up to people and see what happens. You might get hurt, but your encounters won’t all be painful. Be a little vulnerable, like you were to me today. I didn’t take advantage of you now, did I?”

“No. But somehow I trust you, Miss Harnett?”

She grinned. “See? You trust someone, after all.”

“You’re just too open to be devious.”

“That’s a compliment.“ She frowned. “I think.” She turned into a driveway. “Well, here’s your home.”

She parked the car, helped him out of the car, and allowed him to grasp her around the shoulders as they wove up the sidewalk. This time she held him around the waist and let him lean quite closely against her. She hoped he wouldn’t start to fall. She knew she couldn’t support his weight if he did. If he started down, they’d both go down.

She had to keep him alert and focused. “Imagine how the neighbors must be talking,” she said. “There goes Mr. Cramer, drunk as a skunk, and in the middle of a work day. And with some woman, no less.”

Worried, Cramer glanced at the houses. “That’s right. They will see.”

“Forget it,” she urged. “They’re all at that Ladies’ Aid meeting with your mother.”

“What will Mr. Martin say?”

“He’ll be sorry he wasn’t here to help, too.”

“I mean, won’t he object to your leading me around with your arm around my waist?”

Jean looked puzzled, then laughed. “Don’t worry about Craig. He’s very broad minded.”

“I don’t know if I’d be that broad minded about my girlfriend and another guy.”

Jean stopped at the front door and looked at him with a serious face. “You would if you trusted the girl.”

“We’re back to that word again, aren’t we?” Cramer asked as he struggled to concentrate on her face. “Mr. Martin must trust you a lot.”

“Mr. Cramer, you don’t quite understand the situation between Craig and me--”

Cramer put his hand up to his dizzy head.

“Sorry. This is no time for me to go explaining relationships. Here. Let’s get you inside the house.”

She pushed open the front door and led Cramer across the living room to an overstuffed chair. He sighed as he sank into its comfort and closed his eyes against the dizzy world.

Jean glanced around the spacious living room. It was a long room, running across the whole front of the house, and filled with Colonial furniture and green plants. It was a man’s room, furnished by an exacting woman who had all men in her family.

“Can you make it upstairs, or would you rather stay down here?”

“I’ll, I’ll go upstairs,” he said, thrusting himself out of the chair, then steadying himself by grabbing onto the chair’s arm.

“Easy. You pop into bed while I call your mother. Ladies’ Aid at Mrs. Dexter’s house this month, isn’t it? Just relax. The doctor will be here shortly.”

Doctor Albright, who had been on another house call and had been difficult to reach, arrived at the same moment as Mrs. Cramer.

“Sam, do you know what happened to Bob?”

“No, I don’t, Alida,” he answered as he pulled his large frame to the side so she could enter the front door first. “I just got the call.”

Jean looked up and swallowed hard. At last, she was meeting Alida Cramer and she was a little frightened. Cool, aloof, aristocratic Alida Cramer, social matriarch and member of two of the oldest families in Woodstock, would surely be very snide to such a nobody as Jean.

“Where’s Bob?” she demanded.

“Upstairs,” Jean managed to answer.

“You stay here, Alida,” Doc Albright said. “I’ll see why the boy is playing hooky.” He waddled up the stairs.

The room got quiet and Jean felt nervous as Alida paced and wrung her hands.

“Mrs. Cramer? I-I’m Jean Harnett. I’m the one who called you.”

Alida seemed to remember her presence. “Of course. Forgive my manners. Won’t you have a chair?”

Jean dropped weakly into the wing-backed chair that Cramer had vacated.

“Tell me, Miss Harnett,” Mrs. Cramer said, oblivious to Jean’s nervousness. “What’s wrong with Bob?” She glanced at the stairway and a tiny worry line made a furrow between her blue eyes.

Jean drew in her breath. Mrs. Cramer was like any other mother under similar circumstances. She was worried about her son! And she was not holding trial to pass judgment on Jean. She had no intention of doing so. Jean relaxed.

“High fever. Shakes. Horribly dizzy. But mostly dizzy.”

Mrs. Cramer absently wrung her hands. “I told him to go to bed early last night, but reasoning with him is impossible. You’ll have to tell my your secret of handling him. How did you ever make him listen to you?”

“I guess I was more unreasonable than he was.”

“I suppose that would make a difference.” Mrs. Cramer looked at Jean as though she was seeing her for the first time. Amused interest sparkled in her eyes. “You’re the English teacher, aren’t you? The new one?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so.” The corners of Mrs. Cramer’s mouth twitched with laughter. “Bob has mentioned you.”

“Yes, I, ah, suppose he has,” Jean said as she remembered all of the times she’d exasperated him.

“Well, keep it up.”

Jean blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Keep it up.” She smiled as Jean stared at her. “It’s good for him.”

The doctor clumped downstairs, and Mrs. Cramer looked at him.

“Well, Sam?”

“A touch of the flu. Bed rest is the best cure for him. I’ll just leave him in your capable hands, Alida.”

“Capable hands? Where did you get that kind of talk?”

“Well, I didn’t understand it myself,” the doctor said, pausing. “The fever has Bob a little out of his head, mind you. When I said I was leaving, he said, ‘That’s all right. I’m in very capable hands.’ I said, ‘Oh?’, and he said, ‘Yes, my own personal physician will take good care of me.’ Do you have a medical degree that I’ve never heard about, Alida?”

Jean could barely suppress her laughter. At last she felt the warm glow that Cramer had first intended with his gentle teasing.

“No, I don’t, Sam. But maybe Miss Harnett does.”

Mrs. Cramer and the doctor both glanced at Jean, and she felt her face go red.

“So, you’re Jean Harnett,” the rotund doctor said as his soft hand shook hers. “I’ve heard about you.”

Jean blushed again.

“Sam, we’re embarrassing the poor girl, and she’s been so good to Bob this afternoon.”

“Why, everything I’ve ever heard about you, Miss Harnett, has been good. My niece, Becky Summers, is in one of your classes.”

Becky Summers. Sophomore English. Quiet, shy, and rotund. Jean could see the family resemblance.

“Becky’s a very dependable young lady, Doctor,” Jean assured him. “She’s a pleasure to have in class.”

“I’m sure she is. And call me ‘Doc.’ Everyone else does. I wouldn’t know that you were talking to me, otherwise.” He glanced at his watch. “Gotta go. Dena Jennings is trying to decide whether to have a baby today, or wait until tomorrow.” He paused at the door. “Call if Bob gets to feeling worse, Alida.”

“I will, Sam.”

“But I think that rest and TLC will do a lot to improve him.”

“I do, too.”

He glanced at Jean. “Nice to meet you, Miss Harnett.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Doc.”

The door closed on the doctor, and the room got quiet again. Alida turned to Jean with a pleasant smile.

“Won’t you stay for some coffee, Miss Harnett? I baked some fresh pastry this morning to go with it. We could have a good chat and get acquainted.”

“Sounds delicious and delightful and I wish that I could, but I have a class in a few minutes. I‘ll just make it back in time for it.”

“Then I won’t detain you. Well, thanks so much for taking such good care of Bob,” Mrs. Cramer said as she held open the door.

“That’s what friends are for, Mrs. Cramer.”

Mrs. Cramer touched Jean’s arm. “I’m glad Bob has you for a friend,” she said, smiling sincerely. “I know he is.”

Jean was touched by her sincerity. “Of course. G-goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Miss Harnett.” She watched as Jean walked quickly down the sidewalk, and then Alida Cramer went upstairs to see to her son.

 

At noon, the faculty table was abuzz with the story of Cramer’s illness and the help that Jean had given to Cramer. Jean felt slightly embarrassed by the attention, but accepted the praise and gentle, good natured teasing until Dennis Stoneman sat down beside her. Jean felt herself freeze up in his presence.

“Well, here’s the little heroine now. How does it feel to be a heroine, Miss Harnett?”

“I’m hardly a heroine, Mr. Stoneman. Anyone would’ve done what I did.”

“But not everyone did. Be careful, Miss Harnett. You might find yourself becoming indispensable to our illustrious principal.”

“I I do, it’s because I’m simply trying to help him.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning there are many reasons why people try to become indispensable to their bosses.”

Stoneman’s eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be taking Jean’s measure. “You have an advantage I don’t have, Miss Harnett. You’re female.”

Jean blushed. “That was the furthest thing from Mr. Cramer’s mind, of what I can assure you.”

Stoneman laughed, but his voice was edged more with sarcasm than humor. “Now, THAT I can agree with.”

It was an affront both to Jean and to Cramer. Jean dropped her mouth open, half in shock and half in preparation to answer Stoneman. If only she could think of a proper insult that would put Stoneman in his place and yet not sound too snide to their audience.

“Come on, Jean,” Zoe prompted at Jean‘s elbow. “We need to see about the water committee. Now.” She shooed Jean away from the table.

Jean, still trying to think of an appropriate rejoinder to Stoneman’s statement, allowed herself to be taken from the field of battle. But out in the hallway, she turned.

“What water committee, Zoe?”

“The one in charge of cooling you off. I guess I’m the chairman.”

Jean’s anger deflated with Zoe’s logic.

“Why do you let Stoneman get under your skin? Why join him on his level?”

Jean shrugged her shoulders. She couldn’t answer Zoe.

 

“I guess it’s something of a tradition to see who wins this game,” Jean said as she huddled close to Brian on the wooden bleacher at the football game the next Friday night. “Woodstock and Fredericksburg have had a long running rivalry.”

“Well, I think Fredericksburg has this one in the bag. The score’s a little lopsided in their favor.”

“The pep club girls are doing their part, though. Rose really has them looking good.”

“You let her take over the squad, eh?”

“Well, it made more sense for the home ec teacher to sponsor them.”

A cheer went up on the Fredericksburg side.

“Another touchdown!” Brian said with disgust. “Hey, you big bullies! Let our guys have a chance!”

“Brian!” Jean scolded as several Woodstock fans shouted their agreement with Brian.

“We better let the pep club girls out on the field,” Brian grumbled. “They might play better.”

“We’re just not connecting tonight. It’s a miserable way to end the season and against our chief rivals, at that. I’m glad Craig isn’t here to see it. I wouldn’t be here this weekend if I didn’t have play practice tomorrow bright and early.”

“Saturday morning seems a lousy time to have to have rehearsal.”

“It couldn’t be helped. Next week is so cut up that I think we need this practice. Otherwise, I’d been home in Canton by now and missing this fiasco. Zoe was wise to skip this game.”

“What’s she doing? Dyeing her hair?”

Jean nearly cried out. How could Brian possibly know that? It must’ve been a lucky guess.

“I think she was going to read a book.” That part wasn’t a lie. Zoe had a new mystery that she’d bought last month and had talked about starting sometime soon.

“She never struck me as an intellectual.”

“There’s all kinds of books, Brian.”

“It’s probably one of these sex manuals then. Won’t that just get her frustrated?”

“Why do you talk that way about Zoe, Brian? She even here and you attack her anyway.”

A roar went up from the defending team’s fans.

“Oh, Fredericksburg recovered again! I don’t know if I can watch anymore of this slaughter, Brian.”

“Let’s get out of here, then. It’s starting to snow, anyway.”

“Oh, it is!” Jean said breathlessly and gazed upward into the occasional flakes drifting down.

“Come on, starry eyes,” Brian said, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s leave before you cause a general reconciliation between these two towns. Then what will they do for a rivalry?”

“Oh, they’d find someone else to fight,” Jean said as they walked behind the bleachers toward the parking lot where they’d left Brian’s old station wagon.

“Brr! It’s cold out here,” she said.

Brian put his arm around Jean’s shoulders and pulled her closer as they stumbled across the uneven ground.

“Better?”

“Much!”

They stepped into a circle of brightness from a flood light and came face to face with Robert Cramer.

“Oh! Mr. Cramer! I didn’t know you were here tonight,” Jean said.

Cramer glared at the couple cuddled together, their faces aglow with the cold air, and the fun they were having in each other’s company. Landis self-consciously withdrew his arm from around her shoulders.

“Are you well enough to be out in the night air?” Jean asked as she gave him a solicitous look.

“I’m quite well, thank you, Miss Harnett. Thank you for asking,” he snapped and moved away.

“Gee, what’s wrong with him tonight?”

“It might have something to do with the fact that he caught us up to no good. I did have my arm around you, for God and everyone to see, as we walked away from deep shadows just now. Hard telling what we were doing in there.”

“Oh, you’re right! He misunderstood!”

“Who cares about him? Maybe he thought you were two-timing Craig. You’re supposed to be dating him, you know.”

“I never have explained to him about Craig and me--” She tried to look into the darkness where Cramer had disappeared.

“Forget him,” Brian urged as he pulled her around to face him. “Do you know how utterly, devastatingly beautiful you look in this light?”

Something in his voice had changed, and she forgot Cramer to give Brian her full attention. Her blonde hair formed a puddle around her upturned coat collar as she glanced up at him. Her eyes widened in surprise first by what he’d said and then when she read his intent behind his glasses.

“No, Brian. Not here.”

“Can’t help it. I don’t care if the whole damned world sees us.” He neared her face.

“But, Mr. Cramer--”

“Let him get his own girl,” Brian murmured. He pulled her closer and kissed her.

She didn’t pull away, but kissed him back. She was so happy that they were friends that she was glad to give him a friendly kiss. They clung together for a moment, then Brian pushed her away.

“Still friends, I see.”

“I’m sorry, Brian.”

“Hell, I’m the one who’s sorry. Being your big brother isn’t exactly what I had in mind, woman.”

“I wish it could be more, Brian. You’re a nice person, despite how you act. I could do a whole lot worse than you.”

They started walking again, separately, with their hands in their pockets.

“I should go back and ride on the players’ bus. They struck out tonight, too.”

“Brian--”

“You have a guy back in Canton, don’t you?”

“Sort of. And I’m hurting him, too, with my inability to commit myself.”

“You just haven’t found the right one yet. That Canton guy and I can’t fault you for that. We’re just not the right one.” He held the car door open for her.

“Thank you for not pushing me, Brian. You’re a wonderful friend.”

“Friend. Yeah, sure. Get in the car. Friend.”

She laughed nervously and dreaded the trip back to Woodstock. But Brian made sure they talked about everything but their relationship. Jean gradually relaxed and accepted what Brian had realized back in that circle of light: They didn’t have anything more than friendship between them. He really wasn’t the one for her.

Back in her driveway, Brian didn’t cut the motor.

“I won’t see you to your door. I might misbehave and kiss you again.”

“Brian, I, I’m sorry. I feel lousy for what I‘m doing to you.”

He picked up her hand. “I shouldn’t be so dramatic. Thanks for not getting my hopes up. I’m told it’s kinder to me to not be led on. But I can tell those know-it-alls that it still hurts like hell.”

“Oh, gosh, Brian--”

“We just won’t go anywhere together unless we’re in a group. Taking Bergetti along would kill the romantic mood in anybody.”

Jean laughed nervously. “Go on with you now, before I forget myself and misbehave right here in the car.”

She leaned toward him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then jumped out of the car and ran for her apartment. In the darkness of the porch, she watched the old station wagon as it backed out of the driveway and coasted slowly up the street.

“Cold out?” Zoe asked as Jean shut the front door.

“A little. We saw some snow flurries, too.”

“How’d the game go?”

Jean pulled off her gloves. “They were beating us soundly. We left before it was over.”

Zoe looked up and frowned “There must have been quite a few snow flurries. Your lipstick is smeared,” she said dryly.

Jean glanced in the mirror. Brian must look like a sight, too, but there was nobody at his apartment to see.

“You must’ve had a good time by the looks of your face.”

“Not really. I hurt Brian.”

“That’s impossible. Iron doesn’t dent.”

“Maybe not. But Brian does. Maybe you could be kind to him. I can’t. He might misread my intentions, and I don’t want to hurt him again.”

Zoe hooted with laughter. “If I was kind to him, I’d scare him. He’d think I’d heard he was dying, or something.”

“I’m going to take a bath,” Jean mumbled as she headed for the bathroom. She needed time to think. It had occurred to her while they were driving back to Woodstock why she hadn’t picked Brian to help in her little charade with Jeff Braun. Maybe she was afraid she’d fall for Brian in the process, and Craig was safely involved with her sister. Why was she forever backing off from serious relationships with men? Was she waiting for her one perfect love to appear, as Brian had suggested? If she was, she was even more foolishly romantic than even she had realized.

 

Zoe left early on Saturday morning to spend the day sketching in the wilderness area known as Bremer’s Hill thirty miles east of Woodstock. A German community had once stood near that forest, but Otto Bremer’s great-grandson now farmed the site where Otto’s general store and gristmill had once stood. The present farmer still unearthed coins and pottery shards dating back to the defunct settlement.

It was a clear, sunshiny day so Zoe should find a myriad of subjects to sketch. Jean would’ve gone with her and hiked the surrounding hills while Zoe sketched, but Jean had play practice to direct that morning.

Practice ran smoothly, and Jean returned to her apartment earlier than she’d anticipated. She grabbed her dirty clothing and bedding and set out for the Laundromat in Springfield to do her washing. The drive through the farmland was relaxing, and Jean felt thoroughly refreshed by the time she reached the county seat.

As she coasted down the street toward the Laundromat, she saw that the volunteer firemen were hosting a pancake and sausage feed at the fire station. On impulse, she pulled in. They were serving until two, and she hadn’t eaten any lunch yet.

Jean collected her plate and cup of hot coffee and settled on a rough picnic table that had been dragged into the building for the occasion. The big front door was left open, and it was pleasantly cold in the fire house. Farmers and townsmen sat scattered at other tables and talked quietly among themselves. Nobody knew Jean, but still included her in their discussions. Jean thoroughly enjoyed herself.

After she had washed and dried her laundry, she treated herself to a matinee. It was last year’s James Bond film, but she watched it as avidly as if she’d never seen it before. It didn’t bother her that young people were necking and that younger ones were running in the aisles. She didn’t have to control any of them. Somehow, being anonymous in this theater, she felt like a regular person again. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been turned into an asexual teacher in two months time.

After the movie Jean ate a plateful of horribly greasy beef stew served with a couple of tough baking powder biscuits and then finished the meal with a slab of soggy apple pie at the truck stop on the edge of town. Country music blared on the jukebox, and the waitresses traded smart remarks with the truck drivers and local small grain farmers. Afterward, Jean drove back to Woodstock in the dark, but she was unafraid. Her day had been too wonderful for anything bad to happen to her, and it didn‘t.

“What did you do with yourself today?” Zoe asked.

How could Jean tell her about her experiences? They were too mundane and too precious to share.

Jean shrugged. “Not much. Did you have much luck with your sketches?”

As Zoe dug with interest into her drawings, Jean realized they’d both had a rewarding and restorative day, just in different ways. Maybe she would share her adventures with Zoe, after all.

 

Brian played with his coffee cup as he sat on a lumpy chair in the teachers’ lounge the next Monday. The only other person in the small, dark room was Zoe. They’d barely mumbled more than greetings to each other a few minutes before. It was almost as if they needed an audience to entertain, otherwise they were mute. Surely, they had more in common than bickering.

Brian had set his mind. He wanted to talk to someone about Friday night. Maybe Zoe wouldn’t pick his carcass clean if she saw how vulnerable he was.

“I suppose Jean told you that I struck out with her Friday night.”

Zoe shifted uncomfortably. “Not in so many words. She doesn’t kiss and tell. But she was afraid she’d hurt you, so I just, ah, kind of figured things out.”

“She would be concerned. That girl is one in a million.”

“That’s one thing we can agree on.”

“How come you aren’t crowing over my broken heart?”

“For one thing, I doubt if it’s really broken. For another, you helped me through the mess with Fred Langley. More importantly, you didn’t goad me about him.”

“The way you’re not goading me about Jean? I guess we don’t hurt each other when know we’re already hurting.”

“It kind of takes the sport out of it if the other person is wounded. But don’t let it go to your head. The war isn’t over yet.”

“Temporary truce, Red? While I heal up?”

“I wouldn’t want to take advantage of a crippled opponent. Are you and Jean still friends?”

Brian smirked. “Yeah.”

“You’re lucky. I don’t even want to know Fred Langley anymore.”

Brian frowned. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said slowly. “I should be happy that she and I are still friends. You know, I’m glad I wasn’t too involved with her. She could take a lot of getting over.”

“One more scar on the old heart, eh?”

“Let’s call it a scratch, okay?”

“You’re healing.”

“I should be able to think of a wisecrack for that, but I can’t today.”

“Truce is still in effect remember? I won’t lay off of you for very long, Landis.”

“Likewise, I’m sure. I wouldn’t want too much sugar and spice and solicitude around me. Woodstock is dull enough. I need to keep a sharp edge, and you’re just the sword maker who can do that for me.”

“Someone’s coming,” Zoe cautioned. “It’s probably Chet, out for his mid-morning cup of heart pacer. He’ll suspect something’s changed and will have all antenna vibrating. Watch yourself.”

“Why, thank you, Bergetti.” He sounded false, even to himself.

“We have Jean’s reputation to think about, too,” Zoe snapped “There’s more here to protect than just your fragile male ego.”

Brian felt that barb more than he should have and knew he wasn’t ready for active combat yet, but realized that he had to be.

“That was a mighty short truce,” he said with a faint smile.

“Sometimes we can’t have the luxury of peaceful times,” she snapped back.

Brian sighed. She was doing the same thing for him that he had done for her the night Langley was confronted by the Woodstock teachers. We have to keep fighting, no matter how much we’re hurting, she seemed to be telling him. It was a wonder she had not slugged him that night in the church. He wished he had the ambition to slug somebody now, then maybe he could fight the way they both knew he needed to fight.

“Oh, yeah?” he retorted. “You probably know all about disturbing the peace,” he managed to say as Chet opened the door. “You’re probably on police blotters all over the country.” Brian’s heart wasn’t in what he was saying, but his voice sounded properly sarcastic. Zoe’s head was turned toward him, and there was a look of approval in her eyes, so Brian knew he sounded okay.

“And your picture’s all over post office walls,” Zoe shot back.

Chet nodded his approval, too. Miss Harnett might’ve turned Brian Landis down, as rumor had it, but Brian had landed solidly on his feet. “Coffee hot?” Chet demanded as he walked toward the percolator.

“Scalding,” Brian answered. “But not as hot as that woman’s tongue,” he said, nodding toward Zoe.

“Coffee’s just the way I like it,” Chet said as he poured himself a cup.

Everyone in the room relaxed. Brian was going to make it.

 

“Are you having tryouts for the junior play tomorrow night?” Zoe asked.

“Yes. Down on the stage. Why?”

“Kendra Ott and Mike McBain will get the leads.”

“Probably. But I have to go through the motions.”

“Did you know that Kendra has a thing for Mike?”

“Really? I thought she was dating a college guy.”

“She is. Jon Eliot. He’s down at Argyle U. majoring in psychology and history. His dad’s a lawyer in Springfield. I expect that’s what Jon will eventually do.”

“Sounds like the kind of family background that would fit the Ott’s idea of a perfect match for Kendra. The McBains aren’t socially prominent.”

“They own their farm and they struggle to keep it, but they’re well respected and live simply, but happily. Mike has older siblings who’ve had to carve a future for themselves, and Mike will, too. Their parents couldn’t help them much financially, but have given them an honest, Christian upbringing. Two of the sisters put themselves through teachers college, and another one is a nurse. The two older boys joined the service and are letting Uncle Sam pay for their schooling. They help the others whenever they can, but with three other youngsters, besides Mike, still at home, the money gets spread awfully thin.”

“If it isn’t money, then what attracts Kendra to Mike? He isn’t in sports.”

“They’ve been battling for the number one place on the honor roll for years. One time Mike’s in the lead, and the next time Kendra is. Mike’s the better student, but Kendra digs in and works her head off. They’ve competed scholastically and Mike respects her book smarts, but otherwise he’s indifferent to her. I expect that snub was an affront to her female wiles, as it would be to any woman, and she has set out to make him fall adoringly at her feet. Instead, she’s fallen adoringly at his. And he’s still immune to her.”

Jean remembered this conversation had taken place back in October, back when she figured she could handle any volatile situation between conflicting teenage hearts. Ah, the enthusiasm and naiveté of youth, her youth. To think that she would try to balance Kendra’s crush with the demands of play practice. To seriously suppose that all would go well. To not be too amazed when Kendra finally stormed off stage in a fit of nerves. But did it have to be final dress rehearsal? Did Kendra have to give Jean the false security that all was going well when suddenly it wasn’t?

Jean thought of all these things as she hurried backstage after Kendra. Rehearsals had gone so well all these weeks, why had Kendra finally collapsed now? Why couldn’t she have lasted a few more nights, until the public performance was over.

Jean cautiously opened the door to the girls’ dressing room and saw Kendra standing in the middle of the floor with her back turned.

“Kendra, are you all right?”

Kendra raised her head and twisted her hands together, but wouldn’t face Jean. “I’m sorry, Miss Harnett. I didn’t mean to upset everyone.”

Jean stepped into the room. “They’re not as upset as they are mystified and concerned. You’re obviously bothered about something. Do you want to talk about it?”

Kendra turned, and Jean saw that tears had been running down her face.

“You didn’t come in here to yell at me for messing up dress rehearsal?”

Jean smiled gently. ‘Now, what good would that do?”

Kendra bowed her head. “None, I expect.”

“That’s right,” Jean said warmly. “Suppose we sit down and talk this out?”

She’d barely seated herself when Kendra fell to her knees, buried her face in Jean’s lap, and began crying uncontrollably. Jean sat for a moment with her hand hovering over the quivering girl. How could she handle this situation? Whatever made her think she could?

Then Jean’s hand settled on Kendra’s shoulder. No book could teach Jean what to do now. Her humanity and common sense would have to be her guidelines.

“Now, now, Kendra, don’t work yourself up so. It’s not good for you.”

“Oh, Miss Harnett! I can’t! I can’t do it! I can’t be in this play!”

“Why not? You’ve done so well in rehearsals.”

Kendra lifted her head. “Don’t you know how I feel about Mike?”

“Yes, I do. And I understand your problem.”

“I know that crushes are foolish and are not real love. But this hurts as badly as being in love. Have you ever had a crush, Miss Harnett? I don’t mean on movie stars or famous athletes. I mean a relationship that could happen if the other person would only see the situation as you do.”

Jean smiled wistfully. “Yes, I have. There was a good looking boy in my college Shakespeare class that I was dying to meet. Then we worked on a project together and became good friends. We developed a rich relationship, but not love. I still hear from him occasionally. He‘s to be married next spring. I‘m going to attend his wedding. His fiance is a lovely person, and I couldn‘t be happier for them.”

“But don’t you wish it could’ve worked out differently, that you could’ve married him?”

“Of course, I do. But all kinds of things could’ve happened to sour our love. This way I have a lovely memory of him. That’s all that you may ever have with Mike, but don’t ruin what you do have with him. Don’t risk losing your friend.”

Kendra pulled herself back to her feet. “You’re right. Let’s go back to rehearsal. Let them think that nerves got the best of me. Right now, that might be the truth.”

Jean and Kendra laughed as they walked toward the stage, and Jean developed a whole new respect for the girl. Jean didn’t know if she could ever be as brave as Kendra.

 

The play was a huge success, but Jean thought that Kendra did her best acting when she and Mike stood hand-in-hand at the final curtain call and bowed as their audience clapped in approval. They looked at each other and smiled.

A moment later Kendra was backstage hugging Jean. “Thank you, Miss Harnett,” Kendra whispered and her eyes were shining in gratitude. “Thank you for saving my friendship with Mike. I could’ve lost that if not for you.”

“You did it, Kendra. You’re a courageous young lady.”

Jean knew that Kendra probably hadn’t won the man of her dreams, but she’d gained her own self-respect and that was a lot.

 

“Now that you’ve got the Junior play out of the road, do you think we can go ahead with plans for the Freshman-Sophomore rolling skating party, Jean?”

“I think so, Zoe. Craig and I can get the Sophomores rounded up for next Thursday night, as planned, if you and Brian will have the Freshmen ready.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “As ready as we’ll ever be. Brian can be a pain, but at least he can organize something like this.”

Jean looked shocked. “Did I just hear you give Brian a compliment?”

“I do have to give the Devil his due. And in this case, I really am right in calling him a devil.”

“I think of him more as an imp.”

“That’s because he treats you nice.”

“I like him and he knows it. Most people respond to affection. Try it on him sometime.”

“I’d scare him silly. He’d think I’d gone addle-pated.”

“Well, at least try kindness then.”

“That would only make him suspicious. No, some people just strike each other wrong. We can work together, but we’re always squabbling. We have nothing in common.”

“I see it differently. Maybe you two are too much alike.”

“Brian and me? Alike?! You are a hopeless romantic.”

“He does, at least, add interest in your day, doesn’t he?”

“Well, yes, I do have to admit that he can do that.” Zoe frowned as she studied Jean. “You really do find something good in any situation, don’t you? Or anybody?”

“I try. Now, back to the rolling skating party. We’ll take a school bus and we four can ride with the kids. Will any of the other faculty be there?”

“We’ll throw out an invitation at the faculty meeting Wednesday morning. I expect Rose Paget and Jack Walsh will attend.”

“I thought she had a thing with Lacey Griffith.”

“She does. She wavers between the two. Right now, it’s Jack.“

“Just a few weeks ago, it was Lacey. They were together when we went to the haunted house.“

“Oh, that’s right! And now, she’s back with Jack. Can you believe it? Most of us have no guys, and she has two.”

“I couldn’t believe that there were so many young, unmarried people on the faculty here.”

“Woodstock is a small school. We can’t afford to pay much salary, so we get the inexperienced teachers just starting out or the old ones such as Clapsattle and Adair on their last jobs before retirement. It’s kind of unfair to the kids to have a faculty like that, because they don’t get the best quality education.”

“But they get the benefits of experience plus the new ideas fresh out of college.”

“I repeat, you do find something good in any situation, don’t you?”

“Who else on the faculty would go roller skating, do you think?”

“Cramer might make an appearance,” Zoe answered.

“Would he be bringing a date?”

“Cramer?! I doubt it. I doubt that it would dawn on him that this would be a dating situation.”

“Is he really that thick headed? He seems so smart in so many other ways.”

“Naive, maybe. From what I’ve heard, he’s never really dated anyone.”

“Come on, Zoe, the man’s been to college. He was even a frat guy. I’ve seen his TKE ring.”

“That doesn’t mean anything when it comes to the romance department. It has crossed his mind, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Last year he tutored a senior girl named Ann Mitchell so she could get into Northwestern. From what I heard, Cramer would’ve liked to have been more than friends but Ann already had a guy. She and Dave are engaged now and will marry next spring. I think Cramer took the news about her engagement pretty hard. Of course, I’ve heard it’s happened before to him.”

“There was another girl? Someone else jilted him?”

“Just someone Cramer would have liked to have dated. Elise Ott.”

“Is she related to Kendra?”

“They’re sisters. Elise is older, Cramer’s age, in fact. They graduated from high school together. The sisters don’t look a thing alike. Kendra’s short with auburn hair and Elise is a cool blonde. Alfred Hitchcock would hire her to star in one of his pictures, if he saw her. She looks something like Grace Kelly or Tippi Hedron. But she’s been having this off-again, on-again romance with Paul Cramer, so Cramer is staying clear.”

“Now, who is Paul Cramer?”

“Robert Cramer’s older brother. That’s why Cramer won’t touch her. Paul is in the Air Force right now. I think he gets out of the service soon, around Christmas, and then we’ll see who gets Elise Ott.”

“Wow! This is just a little Peyton Place around here, isn’t it?”

Zoe shrugged. “You asked. Maybe it is all gossip, but you’re the new kid on the block. You better learn who the chief players are.”

“I appreciate it. Believe me, I need all the help I can get. Have I seen this Elise Ott?”

“She was at the Junior Play, but you were too busy to notice strangers. She works at the Hastings County Bank in Dexter, so she’s close, but not too close.”

“Hmm, the county seat of the next county. Does Cramer ever date her? You know, just pals?”

“I don’t think so, but they might. She writes to Paul, but sometimes I think their relationship is working because they’re separated. That’s why I say it’ll be interesting when Paul gets home for keeps. It should bring matters to a head between him and Elise.”

“It sounds like something to watch during the upcoming winter months.”

“Just wait. You’ll appreciate any diversion to get you through a long winter in a small town like this.”

“I think I’ll have an opportunity to read some of the classics I never got around to reading while I was in college. You know, some of the foreign writers like Tolstoi, Dostoevsky, and Rousseau.”

“You don’t have to hibernate. It won’t be that boring, even here in Woodstock.”

Jean laughed. “But I WANT to read them.”

“Good grief! Are you one of those?! You want to improve yourself?”

“Can you think of a better use of my time?”

“Yeah! Dating a man!”

“Well, if I read, at least I’d have something to show for my time come spring. And all I might get from dating a man is a broken heart.”

“Hey! I’m supposed to be the pessimist around here! Not you!”

Jean laughed.

 

“I don’t know. A Thanksgiving pageant. Are you sure you want to tackle a project like that so soon after doing the Junior play?” Cramer asked.

“But we can’t rest on our laurels!” Jean declared. “We have to strike while the iron’s hot! Thanksgiving is nearly upon us.”

Cramer gave her a thin, condescending smile. “I thought English teachers didn’t like clichés. Or are you just putting your thoughts in the vernacular so that I can better understand them?”

She gave him a sharp look. He was seated behind his desk in the principal’s office while she stood. He’d finally given up standing whenever she bombed into his office or insisting she be seated when he did. She was generally in too much of a hurry to sit, and he would’ve only succeeded in disturbing whatever he was working on to scramble to his feet. They’d both accepted that he wasn’t being impolite to stay seated while a lady was standing. He’d been raised differently and so had she, but somehow the rules of gracious manners were abandoned at school for practicality.

What bothered her more than the pitching of manners out of the window was the way he was seated. His desk chair was the old-fashioned pedestal type on a central pivot that never looked comfortable and always seemed awkward to use. He sat with legs apart and feet dangling, and Jean feared for his balance. He sat hunched slightly forward, she supposed to compensate for the backward thrust of his lower body. If he accidentally leaned back too far with his shoulders, would he pitch unceremoniously backwards out of the window behind him? Would the momentum of the backwards motion be enough to break that series of window panes? Would he land in the middle of the playground and disrupt excess and its perennial games for children?

She decided that trial and error had taught him just how much leeway he could risk with that chair, but she wished for his own safety that he would put his feet on the floor. She could yell at a high school boy for being so daring, but she supposed it wasn’t proper to correct the principal for the same crime.

The dilemma of the chair also presented the problem of making her lose her focus on her newest quest. She decided to abandon Cramer to his own fate concerning his chair and the laws of balance.

“To answer your question, Mr. Cramer, I speak colloquially, but I write correct English. That don’t mean that I don’t use no bad grammar, no how. Weun’s been tryin’ to take on them thar city airs ever since weuns come down outa them thar hills yonder. Dem be a fer piece away.”

He raised his eyebrows and favored her with a tight grin. “Yes. I’ve heard that you have a good sense of when to implement humor for proving your point. Now I have been given ample proof of that ability, haven’t I?”

“Sorry. Sometimes I get nasty when I get all worked up about something I believe in. It’s a failing of mine, I suppose.”

“Don’t apologize. I keep reminding myself to not lease you in. The years may make you jaded, but I shouldn’t be the one to suppress you.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“Sometimes, when we get out in the profession, we forget the goals of education for the practical, day by day dealing with disciplinary problems and other people’s agendas. It get easier not to stress ourselves.” He halfway grinned. “And then someone like you comes along, and reminds us about the ideals again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We educators need a wakeup call every now and then, and I suppose that you are ours for our faculty. Now, just what is it you’re proposing to do for this Thanksgiving pageant?”

“I want to have it on the Tuesday evening before Thanksgiving vacation so the community can attend. It’ll be on the stage, so we can set up the chairs on the gym floor, just like we did for the Senior play. Some of the better writers will compose a monologue or long poem, I haven’t decided which yet, and students will walk through the action while a narrator reads the script. That way nobody will have to learn anything except where they should be on stage. The set will be simple. I envision the bow of a ship with waves in front of it.”

“The bow of a-- Wait! Wait! I don’t follow this.”

“Build a platform for the ship. Paint some props blue and stand them up so they’ll look like waves.” She shrugged. “Simple. Easy peazy.”

“Couldn’t the students just stand on the stage with some short fencing painted blue standing in front of them?”

“The kids will look like they’re walking on water. Or worse yet, like they’re waterskiing to the New World. The shop classes could help with the building.”

“I suppose Mr. Landis could help.”

“He said they couldn’t use class time because they have their own projects to complete. But the platform would be simple, and the boys will know what they’re doing. I could supervise the work during my free time.”

“You seem to have this project well thought out. What about lumber? Where will you get that?”

“Brian, Mr. Landis, has some odds and ends down in storage. He’ll make sure the boys get the right lumber to use. He said they had better know by now how to select the right kind of wood. That knack is basic to woodworking.”

“That’s right. Cabinet making is one of my interests.”

She tilted her head. “Really? I always admired anyone who could work wood with his hands. It’s a special talent.”

He sat forward with a solid thump of the chair, and his feet landed firmly on the floor. Jean felt an immediate relief for his safety.

“I could come down once in awhile and check on progress of the construction,” he said eagerly. Then he wrinkled his brow and glanced over his shoulder through the window. “If I have the time.”

Jean could recognize a cue when she heard one. He didn’t really want to be involved with the project, she could tell. Not that he wouldn’t, because it was his responsibility to be concerned with any matter dealing with high school students and their teachers. But he did have a busy schedule and he had to allow the faculty to shoulder their obligations. He’d never shown up for Junior play practice, unless those times were counted when he’d casually poked his head inside the gym after working late and he was passing by on his way home. Sometimes he had stayed for several minutes, seemingly chatting with Jean or the students, even the administrator with his finger on the pulse of school activities.

But this Thanksgiving project was another matter. It’d never been done before, and an extensive building project was beyond Jean’s expertise, even if it was only a simple platform she needed built.

“That’s all right, Mr. Cramer. Drop in if you can. I’ll have Mr. Landis’ help, though, so I’m sure that everything will go fine.”

 

“Miss Harnett, may I speak with you?”

“Of course, Mr. Cramer. Just a moment, please.” Turning to the student beside her, she said, “You go on down to the gym and get the kids started rehearsing, Linda. I’ll be right down.”

“Certainly, Miss Harnett,” Linda the student director answered and turned to carry out her instructions, then paused. “Oh, Miss Harnett?”

“Yes?”

“I forgot. Details!“

“I know. What do you need?“

Where is that extra lumber?”

“In the storeroom, I think.” Jean turned to Cramer. “Didn’t Braun’s Lumber Yard deliver that lumber to the gym storeroom, Mr. Cramer?”

“Ah, yes, I believe they--”

“Good! Linda, tell Jack and Dave to start hauling out the lumber. Here’s the storeroom key.”

“Okay, Miss Harnett.”

“I’ll be right down. Don’t kill anyone until then. I know you may feel like it, but hold off. That will only build character in you.”

Linda flashed her a smile. “All right. We’ll wait for you. Got any candidates in mind?”

“Several. But there’d be too many witnesses. Now, scoot!”

Linda grinned again. “Yes, Miss Harnett.”

“Now, Mr. Cramer,” Jean said, turning to him. “Sorry to keep you waiting. What was it you wanted to tell me?”

“It’s about your lumber delivery from Brauns. I thought you were using scraps in storage. Expenditures for additional lumber have not been cleared with the School Board.”

“I just didn’t get the chance to explain about the new lumber, Mr. Cramer. I saw no reason why I should since--”

“Miss Harnett! When are the book reports due?”

“Let’s see, you’re a freshman, aren’t you, Bill? The report is due tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?! Ah, have a heart! The juniors’ reports aren’t due until Monday.”

“That’s because they’re behind because of their play. That’s why they have extended time. I want to make it easier on them.”

“Why don’t you make it easier on the frosh and have their reports due on Monday, too?”

“Because I also want to make those reports as easy as I can on me. I can’t grade them all at once.”

“Oh, all right.” Bill trudged off.

“I think they deserve an explanation for everything, don’t you, Mr. Cramer?”

“That’s very admirable that you want to be fair, Miss Harnett, but you will find that sometimes it is not practical.”

“And then you suggest that I holler at them and act like a dictator?”

“Well--”

“Mr. Cramer, my ed. courses at college taught me more that .”

“Education courses are wonderful for theory, Miss Harnett, but they are hardly realistic--”

“Then I should rule with my hand instead of my heart?”

“Well, yes, you could say that. Now, about that lumber. Why didn‘t you say something about it? You‘ve told me everything else, why not something like this?”

“It was just a few boards.”

“They still cost money and needed to be okayed as an expenditure.”

“Not these! Mr. Braun donated them.”

“Cecil Braun? Donated? But, how did you ever get him to cut loose of some of his money and donate--”

“He’s civic minded.“

“Cecil Braun?“

“Oh, there’s the bell! Excuse me, Mr. Cramer. I have to get to the gym or the kids really will kill each other.”

“But, ah, Miss, ah--” Cramer started.

“Harnett.”

“Yes. Sorry. Harnett. Just how-- Never mind. I’m probably better off for not knowing. And while we‘re at it, I need to know--”

“Hey, Miss Harnett! You gave Linda the wrong key! And people are waiting!”

“Coming!”

As she hurried down the hall, she wondered idly what Cramer had wanted to discuss. Then she barged into the gym and forgot Robert Cramer.

 

The Tuesday night before Thanksgiving vacation couldn’t have offered better weather if Jean had ordered it. The morning had seen snow flurries, but by afternoon the skies had cleared and eased into an evening of crystal cold.

Parents and townsfolk arrived with red cheeks and excited laughter. For a small town, the population supported its school and turned out to attend functions. And now that a new pageant had been proposed, Woodstock’s citizens were ready to advocate it and support it.

The curtain went up promptly at eight o’clock and the audience applauded the stage setting. The bow of a giant ship with blue waves lapping around the front part of the hull seemed to be sailing straight for them. Students could enter the stage directly from the rear, and it looked like they were arriving from the main part of the ship.

Several senior girls with clear voices narrated the blank verse poem written by themselves and their classmates. The poem told of the religious persecution that the Pilgrims were fleeing in Europe and the homes they hoped to establish in the New World. A parade of students dressed like farmers and merchants marched around the bow of the ship and disappeared backstage as the poem was read. The students, relieved of the chores of memorizing lines, tended to overact and exaggerated gestures. This was something Jean would have to curb next year, but she could see how it could happen.

Nobody in the audience seemed to mind the overacting, though, when the play was over. People applauded and agreed with their neighbors that the presentation had been successful.

Then the cast went into its grand finale. The band began to play and cast members slowly trickled onstage and began singing. Mostly, the songs were traditional Thanksgiving fare. Jean remembered how she and some of the students dug through songs that would be appropriate. There wasn’t the wealth of Thanksgiving songs like there was for Christmas.

The last song was to be GOD BLESS AMERICA and called for all of the cast to be present on the platform. In the second verse, Jean heard an ominous cracking and saw several cast members give each other questioning looks.

Then there was a loud splintering sound.

Jean never learned who said it, but a male voice yelled, “Abandon ship!” Students dove right and left off the platform as the wooden structure groaned, shuddered, and collapsed in a tired heap. “Man overboard!” someone else yelled. “Women and children first!” someone in the audience answered, and a few people tittered. When people saw that the children were not injured, could not be injured in a sidestep that was only a foot high, laughter of relief broke out. Some people even applauded, thinking it was part of the show. As if not knowing what else to do, some students bowed.

Dazed students wandered around backstage. Teachers checked to see if anybody was injured. Outside of a little shakiness and one twisted ankle, everyone was fine. A football play should have such few injuries.

Someone asked for Miss Harnett, but after the first few moments of general bedlam when she was checking for injuries, Miss Harnett could not be found.

 

Jean sat in the back of her classroom in one of her student’s desks. The room was dark but moonlight streamed through the Venetian blinds, making the familiar room seem strange to her. She glanced over the chairs toward the teacher’s desk, the view her students had of her daily. How could she ever sit up there and face them again? After all the work involved with building the set and rehearsing the play, how could her beautiful Thanksgiving Pageant have ended so disastrously?

A shadow appeared on the door’s glass, and Jean saw the sharp profile of Robert Cramer looking for her at her desk. She held her breath, although she knew he could not possibly hear her breathing. More importantly, she froze and did not move for fear the motion would draw his attention to her presence. She just was not in the mood to listen to him say I told you so. After a few moments his shadow disappeared, and Jean slumped back into her despair. She oddly felt more desolate than before his appearance. Even he might have been a comfort.

Time passed, but she had no idea of the hour. The room was quiet; not the ringing roar of silence, but a more settled peace as if the room was relaxing. It seemed to be comfortable with her presence, and she was grateful for its sanctuary.

Everyone was gone. The cars had all left long ago. She hoped the kids had gotten their gear and that Jack had turned off the lights. Her job was to see that those things were done. But when that whole structure had collapsed and everyone began to laugh, it was more than she could take. Well, she just had to run.

It wasn’t the adult thing to do, and she hadn’t been a very good example to her students, but sometimes a person just needed to take a breather. She couldn’t accept responsibility and face failure. She had worked so hard, and so had the students. Everyone was counting on a huge success, and then something had gone wrong. And it had taken only a minute, and a few words, to turn something that was supposed to be significant into a farce.

But what if Jack hadn’t turned off the lights? She’d better check, and then she’d better get home. Zoe and her other friends would be concerned.

Jean groped her way thought the darkened hallways, past rooms that had been so alive with students that very afternoon and now waited in expectation for tomorrow.

She stepped into the deserted gymnasium alit by one bulb. No one would have forgotten one light; it must have been left on for her. The light switch was at the front door. But instead of turning it off and leaving, she had to take one long, last look at the remains of her grisly fiasco.

Jean’s footsteps echoed over the basketball court. Folding chairs sat at crazy angles and printed programs lay scattered on the floor. The printed programs read Woodstock Thanksgiving Pageant, but Woodstock Thanksgiving Disaster would be closer to the truth.

Jean leaned her elbows on the stage and stared up at the wooden wreckage of the boat on the stage. Cramer had been right. Jean had been lucky with the Pep Club; Fate couldn’t be kind to her twice. 

But it was the kids she was worried about. They had wanted to give their town something, a tradition that could be repeated year after year. Even the car-crazy kids had been enthusiastic with the pageant. Then she had apparently flubbed it up by ordering the wrong lumber. Oh, God, how could she face them? And what if her stupidity would’ve caused an injury? How could she have faced herself then?

Yes, Cramer had been right. She should stick to teaching and stop sticking her neck out. Well, she had learned tonight’s lesson thoroughly. From now on, she swore she would kill any grand idea she had. She slapped the stage and shook her head. By all that was holy to her, she swore she would not do anything creative again! Just let her teach straight from the textbook! It had worked for thousands of teachers before her, and now she knew the reason why. It worked.

Jean turned and started across the gym. Halfway, she looked up, straight into Cramer’s face. She missed one step, then her rhythmical walk continued. No use putting off the lecture any longer.

Cramer waited for her just beyond the last row of seats. His blue eyes seemed anxious, concerned, and a little relieved. “I thought you’d show up here, so I waited.”

“So, you’ve heard, too, that the criminal always returns to the scene of his crime,” she mumbled. “Go ahead, say it. You were right and I was wrong. Open wound, insert salt.”

“I have no intentions of criticizing you, Miss Harnett. I think you’re doing enough of that to yourself. I just thought you’d need a ride home. Your friends have left already. It‘s too late and chilly for you to walk.”

She walked silently forward. He turned out the gym light and they were alone in the deep dark. But it was a friendly dark, and Jean could feel Cramer’s sympathy. She felt him take her elbow and then he opened the front door for her. She leaned toward him, seeping in his silent strength and compassion, as they stepped into the moonlight.  
The night air was indeed crisp with the approaching winter. Jean turned up the collar of her camel hair coat and piled into Cramer’s old turquoise and white Ford.

Cramer’s car crawled through the quiet streets, then stopped in front of her apartment. Brian’s car was there, and lights were on all over the apartment. How could she face Zoe, or Brian, or even Mrs. Doubleday?

Cramer must have sensed her reluctance to face her friends, for the Ford began to move again. Jean laid her head against the seat as the car left town. She stare idly at the passing farmsteads in the milky moonlight. She had no idea where they were headed. She just wanted the car to keep moving through the anonymous countryside.

Cramer drove steadily, but silently. Jean did not try to think of the disaster, only of all those farms outside the car window. From here, they looked like toys.

At last Cramer stopped the car. They were near a farm, not far from Woodstock for she could see the town’s lights not too far away. He must’ve been driving in circles.  
After a few minutes of silence, he began talking.

“This is the old Farnsworth place. My mother grew up here. My grandfather, Cyrus Farnsworth, was quite an innovative farmer for his time. We used to come out here a lot until my grandparents died. A cousin of Mother’s farms the place now.” He paused and she knew he was going back in time. “Just beyond those trees is a small pond. My brothers and I used to walk out here to fish with Grandpa in the summer. In the winter, we ice skated and went sledding down that hill over there. Now, I come out here when I have something to think over.”

She caught her breath. He had brought her to his private thinking spot, a holy place to him.

“Tomorrow, the students and faculty will be rushing around getting ready for vacation, and I might not have the chance to wish you a good holiday, Miss Harnett.”

“I hope you have a happy turkey, too.” She frowned. “I had mine tonight.”

“Then, next Monday, we will return to our school work, ready to start our December schedule.” His voice got harder. “I want November forgotten, understood?”

She nodded.

“Miss Bergetti was worried about your disappearance. I told her I’d find you.”

“Good old Sherlock,” she muttered. “If you’re such a good detective, why didn’t you give me some clues about tonight’s outcome?”

“Will you just forget it and hope that your next endeavor will--”

“I can’t!”

“Look, if I mulled over every mistake I ever made, I’d never get any work done. Now, your pageant flopped, that’s true. But it was the lumber that collapsed, not your idea. I should have helped you more. After all, you were doing this for the school.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Anything that fails is partly my fault. As principal, I assume that responsibility.”

“But the Thanksgiving Pageant will be nothing by a one time event.”

“I don’t think so. Despite the laughter, I heard favorable comments. The audience was laughing at the lumber collapsing, not at the pageant. Next year, there’ll be another pageant, and I’ll try not to be so stubborn. I’ll help you in any way that I can. We’ll have a good pageant, something we can all be proud of.” He noticed that she did not answer. “That is, if you want it.”

“I am never going to do anything so stupid again!”

“I was afraid you felt that way,” he said quietly. “You mustn’t let this incident keep you from being a good teacher. Poor teachers give the students just what the textbook offers. Good teachers bring in other materials and try to boost meaningful activities, just as you have done. I’ve let you have your head on your projects because, as crazy as some of them are, they are good for your students. Now, I want you to put tonight out of your mind. And I don’t want to stop your projects, because your kind of teaching is what we need in this school.”

Tears were flowing down Jena’s face and she couldn’t speak. To teach strictly from a book would have poisoned her soul. How wonderful of him to understand! How free his words made her feel!

“I don’t want you to ever feel that you’re by yourself. I may disagree with you occasionally, but I’ll back you one hundred percent. You’re a good teacher, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Oh, Mr. C-Cramer!” She started crying uncontrollably.

“Here, here, Miss Harnett. There’s no need for tears.”

“I, I can’t help it,” she wailed and started to hiccup. 

She thought he’d let her cry it out, but what he did next would have startled her if she hadn’t been so emotionally unstrung.

Cramer pulled his arms around her and held her against his chest as she cried. She didn’t know he could be so tender and understanding, and that made her cry harder.

At last she stopped shaking and felt her sobs subside. She pulled away from him, dug in her purse for a hankie, and blew her nose.

“Better?” Cramer asked, as he looked at her intently.

She smiled and nodded her head.

“I better get you back to Woodstock then, or Miss Bergetti will really be worried.” Cramer started his car and silently drove back to town.

“Thanks,” Jean mumbled as she crawled from the Ford. “I hope you have a nice holiday, too, Mr. Cramer.”

“Thank you.”

“And thank you for the words of encouragement. It really helped.”

“Thank you. Now, I’ll watch until you get inside.”

Jean trudged toward her darkened apartment. Only after she disappeared inside the house did she hear Cramer’s car move away down the street.

Jean tiptoed into the bedroom and switched on her bed light. Zoe was lying in her bed, pretending to be asleep. Her left arm didn’t go over the eyes to block out the sudden light as it generally did when she was asleep.

“Zoe? Are you awake?”

Zoe stirred and opened her eyes. “Hi, Jean. Tough break, kid. It was a great play till the boat collapsed.”

“Next year, we’ll use heavier lumber.”

Zoe sat up. “Next year? You mean you’re doing it again? Oh, Jean, I’m so glad! I was so afraid you wouldn’t try again. I thought you’d be bitter about it.”

“I was at first.”

“I laughed, Jean,” Zoe confessed. “I’m sorry, but I laughed.”

“That’s all right. I expect I would’ve laughed, too, if I’d been in the audience.”

“That Brian Landis! I could’ve choked him! He just kept chuckling about it. I sobered up quickly, but he didn’t. But, honest Jean, don’t be too rough on him. He’s your friend and felt sorry for you. He didn’t mean to be diabolical.”

“I know he didn’t. I won’t hold it against anyone for laughing.”

“Hey, who’d you talk to? I thought you’d be so crushed about this pageant that you’d walk under a cloud for weeks. We figured you’d take it personally, like it was all your fault. I thought you’d be miserable all year.”

“The important thing was to get the kids and townspeople interested in the pageant so it’d be an annual event.”

“Cramer found you, didn’t he? After the pageant ended so abruptly, we couldn’t locate you. Cramer said he’d looked all over and couldn’t find you, either.”

“You three organized a search?”

“No. Brian and I looked backstage, but all we saw were dazed kids. We were about to go further when Cramer said he’d already been to your classroom.”

“Then he was looking on his own--” Jean said thoughtfully.

“He looked real worried, too. He told us to go on, that he’d wait for you. You know, Jean, it might sound nasty, but I was relieved when Cramer told us to go. I had no idea what I’d say to you if I’d found you. I really admire Cramer for wanting to help you, considering the way you two generally disagree.”

“Oh, he’s the principal and feels responsible for me.”

“I don’t know, Jean. He was too worried about you tonight. He wasn’t professionally detached like an administrator should be And he certainly cheered you up, and I bet that took no small amount of talking. He didn’t bring you directly home, did he?”

“No. We drove around and, you’re right, he talked to me. No lectures, just talk.”

“You know, Jean, sometimes I think we’re too hard on that guy. He might be human, after all. He was sure worried about you.”

“Yeah. Worried that I’d make a spectacle of myself. He would have done anything to have calmed me down.” Even to putting his arms around me, she thought. Suddenly, the tender glow faded as her words hit home. He had waited for her by himself, not because he was concerned for her, but because he was afraid she’d make a scene and give people something to talk about. And that pep talk at the farm was for the school’s sake, not hers. Even his arms around her was part of an act!

Angrily, she got ready for bed. Forgotten was the humiliation of the pageant, now she was just mad at Cramer. Oh-h-h, he could be so convincing!

The next day the students said little or nothing bad about the pageant. Of course, they joked about some other student being startled at the time of the collapse and yelling. They wouldn’t have, though, if someone had been seriously injured. 

Jean could almost see the students give a collective shrug. They were sorry the accident had happened, but they weren’t going to worry about it. There was always next year, they said. Ah, the resiliency of youth!

Jean gave a sigh of relief.

The buses left at noon and so did the teachers.

“Ready, Jean?” Craig asked as he stuck his head in her classroom door. 

Jean grinned at him and slammed her desk drawer shut. “Ready!”

“I heard your pageant had a horrible ending,” Craig said as they walked down the hallway. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see it, but that coaches’ conference at Springfield last night lasted late.”

“Don’t be sorry about that. Be happy. Maybe you can see it next year. We’ll do it right then.”

He flashed her a grin. “I’m glad that just because you’re down, you’re not out.”

She returned the grin. “Craig, I’m not even down.”

“Great!”

They laughed as they descended the stairs.

They passed the principal’s office, and Jean’s eyes met Cramer’s anxious look. Jean sobered, narrowed her eyes, and squared her shoulders. When she thought of his real motives last night, she could slap him. That obstinate, inhuman, human!

They walked the lower hallway in silence until Craig opened the outside door for Jean. “I think I missed something. I’ve never heard you turn off a laugh so fast. What happened?”

“Cramer!” Jean growled through clenched teeth.

Craig laughed. “What did he do now?”

“Nothing human, I can assure you of that!” As they walked toward their cars, she gave him a quick synopsis of the previous evening.

Craig frowned slightly. “Are you sure you haven’t misjudged him?”

“Under the circumstances, I think I might be generous. All he thinks about is the school, Craig. He doesn’t have anything else in his life.”

Craig shrugged. “Sounds like Thanksgiving vacation will give both of you the space you’re needing. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Jean smiled. “Sounds like a good idea!” Her humor was restored.

 

How odd, Jean thought, as she sat at the table. Here she was, eating Thanksgiving dinner with her family and she felt disconnected from them, as if she was already starting to leave them for the next phase of her life. That feeling saddened her at first. These were the people she’d grown up with, and she felt familiar with them, even her bossy Aunt Margo. But she was changing, and things would never be the same again.

 

Cramer sat at his desk in the principal’s office. A stack of chemistry lab reports stared him in the face, and a set of biology tests awaited his attention. But, before he could grade them, he really should get his monthly report to the county superintendent in shape, and he’d better outline the program for the Christmas party. This afternoon, he could watch football if he plowed through the paperwork on his desk. 

He sighed. This was a boring way to spend a Saturday morning, especially during the Thanksgiving holiday. But he had wanted this life. No judge had sentenced him to hard labor in the public schools. He had very carefully chosen his profession and had attended college for the purpose of becoming a teacher.

Few of his colleagues were as dedicated as he was. In fact, some of the young high school teachers apparently thought teaching was a lark. They joked with the students and talked their language. It was beyond Cramer’s comprehension how they ever maintained any discipline. He believed in firmness, fairness, and far removed. To remain aloof was to create respect, a respect which he valued highly.

 

Then there were other teachers, like Miss Harnett, who seemed to win the students’ respect with kindness and friendship. Cramer admired that ability, but he knew he could never copy it. If people did not respect him, he knew they would not like him for his personality alone.

Cramer knew that he envied Jean Harnett for her ease with people. He also wished he could be part of her group. It looked like they had fun together, even if Jean did seem to be dating Craig Martin and Brian Landis at the same time. How did she manage to do that without making the men jealous of each other?

Cramer really didn’t understand Jean Harnett or her appeal. She deviled him and put his nerves to the test, yet she was fiercely loyal and needed desperately to be protected. The last place for her was in a schoolhouse. She should be married and raising children for Cramer to educate. Yet Cramer did not know what Woodstock High would do without her. She was practically an institution here, despite being here only a few short months. She was loved and he envied her that love. If only one person could love him as much as everyone loved Miss Harnett.

He supposed her secret was that she loved people, all people, and they couldn’t help loving her back. Someone as wacky and open as she was inspired protection and well liked. 

But this wasn’t getting his work done. He dug in and forgot personality problems and Miss Harnett.

But at noon, when he was driving home for lunch, he passed Jean’s apartment and felt lonely when he saw that her car was gone. She was off making other people happy. 

Why had he driven out of his way to pass her apartment, he wondered. Why make himself more lonesome than he already felt?

Cramer felt the sharp contrast between their characters. His personality had always suited him just fine until lately, and now he was feeling like a social pariah. And it was all her fault!

Cramer frowned. How awful for him to blame that whimsical child for his problems. She didn’t make him stand on the sidelines during basketball games and dances. She wasn’t the one who seated him away from the other teachers at the junior play. She didn’t force him to attend parties and proms dateless. None of it was her fault.

But she was the one who was now making him feel uncomfortable about it. And she didn’t have a clue that any difficulty existed for him because of her presence.

 

School started the following Monday, and Cramer relaxed. The building felt better since it was full again. It was being useful, and so was he.

 

Dennis Stoneman sauntered into Cramer’s office and made himself comfortable in the guest chair. “Well, our little Miss Ray of Sunshine certainly covered herself and the school with glory with this latest fiasco of hers.”

Cramer looked up from the notes he was writing and felt a cold aversion go through him for his lounging guest. Dennis Stoneman was talking to him as though they were some sort of partners in collusion, and Cramer didn’t like the association.

“Excuse me?”

Stoneman heard the sharpness of Cramer’s tones and straightened in his chair. “I understand that Miss Harnett’s pageant was a flop.”

“Not really. There were some unforeseen problems that we can correct next year.”

Stoneman sat forward. “Next year?! Don’t tell me you’re going to give her a free hand next year?! Don’t tell me you’ll hire her for next year?!”

Cramer got up and closed the office door. “That matter will be between Miss Harnett and the school board.”

“And you! You’re her immediate superior!”

Cramer sat tapping a pencil against his fingertips. “And yours.” He tossed the pencil aside. “The relationship of the board and another faculty member is none of your concern.”

“It is when the welfare of other students is involved.”

Cramer studied Stoneman. This was the first adamant statement he’d ever heard about student welfare from Stoneman. Brian Landis growled from morning till night about working with students, but still worked with them and did quite well. Dennis Stoneman had never been anything but indifferent to the students and their welfare.

Cramer made a prayerful bridge of his fingers and gently tapped his mouth with the resulting teepee. “The relationship between you and Miss Harnett hasn’t improved much, I see.”

Stoneman leaned forward and grinned. “I tried to ‘improve’ it, but she acted hard to get.” He winked at Cramer. “But she’ll come around. You know her type.”

Cramer jumped out of his chair. “Mr. Stoneman! Miss Harnett is a lady! And I will not hear someone say otherwise.” He paced in the small confines of his office and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You’re not sure about her, are you, Cramer? She takes off every weekend with Craig Martin, but she’s always hanging around with Brian Landis. hard telling how many guys she’s got on the string back home. And don’t tell me that you’re immune to all of that bubbling sunshine. Not even you could be that blind if it’s slapped up against you.”

Cramer stopped pacing abruptly. “Mr. Stoneman! I think that’s about enough!” Cramer breathed quickly and tried to control his anger. He came close to striking a man that day. It took a large amount of will power not to plaster Stoneman in the mouth.

Instead, Cramer leaned his knuckles against his desk and glared at Stoneman. “Mr. Stoneman,” he said in a low voice that reflected his intense anger. “I think you’ve said about enough for one day. You’re not exactly covering yourself with glory.”

“And you’re not living in the real world, Cramer. And neither is Harnett. She’s in some fairy tale never-never land, and you’re in a cocoon is some antiseptic, cotton ball world of education. Neither one of you is for real. The world will eat you alive.”

“The world will respond to us the way we respond to it,” Cramer spat out, trying to keep from yelling. “Miss Harnett and I may seen vulnerable to you, but at least we’re not jaded or belligerent the way you are.” Cramer straightened slightly. “Is that really the way you want to be treated, Mr. Stoneman?”

“You don’t know the full circumstances. I had to get married because some dumb broad didn’t know enough to keep from getting knocked up. Because of the marriage, I had to forget grad school and a cushy job later on--” He brought himself up short. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Harnett.”

“It has everything to do with Miss Harnett. She’s everything your wife will never be, and you hate her because your wife will always be inferior to Miss Harnett.”

“I don’t care anything about that dumb broad at home! She’s a millstone around my neck! Don’t you understand that I hate that stupid bitch?!”

Cramer blinked and took two rapid breaths, then tried to slow his breathing as he studied Stoneman. He felt a wily smile cross his face. “You hate all women, don’t you?”

Stoneman shifted his weight on the chair. “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me!”

“Besides that,” Cramer continued, “Miss Harnett apparently represents a simpler life and viewpoint that’s forever beyond your reach. You’ll never be in her league, and you know it.”

Stoneman gave Cramer a vicious grin. “I’m jealous of her, too? Give it a rest, Cramer. Psychology’s my area, not yours.”

“The relationship of my faculty is my area. And I have enough hours of college psychology to declare a minor in it if I so choose.”

“But you don’t have the life experience to apply what you know. You haven’t paid your dues yet.”

“I realize that you’ve had some unlucky breaks. That’s why I’m giving you another chance. And I don’t want to penalize your family. You’re still the breadwinner.” He leaned forward. “But I’ll be watching you. And another thing: Don’t hit on Miss Harnett again. You’ll have to answer to me.”

“Are you telling me that as my administrator or as another man?”

“I’m saying it as Miss Harnett’s friend.”

“Her friend?” Stoneman studied Cramer who finally became uncomfortable under the steady gaze. “You really don’t know much about people, do you? Do you think you can categorize them, neat and tidy, like you did in the case studies you studied in your college classes? Hell, man, you don’t know that much about yourself, let alone other people.”

“Let’s leave me out of this discussion.”

Stoneman smiled wistfully. “Sure, why not? There’s not a thing wrong with you, is there?” He stood and reached for the doorknob. Then he looked back at Cramer. “At least you make me feel good about something. There’s someone more pathetic in this world than I am.” He sighed. “Despite what I think of her personally, even I have the good sense to recognize that Jean Harnett is all woman. And I wouldn’t insult her to think any less of her.” He gave Cramer a smirk. “Not like some guys.” He shook his head and left.

Robert Cramer sank into his chair in exhaustion. He hated confrontation and had come close to doing something else that he hated worse than anything: physical violence. But what really wrangled him was that Stoneman’s opinion of him came pretty close to his own. He knew he was socially deficient, but had no idea how to correct it. He also knew that he was at the age when he should be thinking of getting married, but the idea of courting some eligible candidate for matrimony sent him into a panic. What woman in her right mind would ever consider him to be husband material?

And, yes, despite what Stoneman thought, Cramer knew that Jean Harnett was all woman. He’d had his arms around her twice this month, and she’d felt the way he’d always thought a woman was supposed to feel. Suddenly he blushed and was glad that nobody saw his face or could read what thoughts were running through his mind. He might be a social misfit, but he well might be the only man on the faculty who’d held Jean Harnett in his arms. And thinking back on it, it hadn’t been an unpleasant experience.


	4. December

It was Tuesday evening and the four of them were to meet at the Home Cafe to consume Made Rites, French fries, and soft drinks. A typical teenage supper menu, but these happened to be four teachers who were able to consume it.

The men arrived first and sat facing each other across the small turquoise upholstered booth. A few minutes later Jean and Zoe appeared.

“Sorry.” Jean sat beside Craig. “Just getting the car gassed up.” She glanced up at Zoe who was still standing. “Would you want to sit beside Craig? I can sit beside Brian.”

Brian and Zoe exchanged cool glances.

“Sit down, Bergetti. I won’t bite. There’s too many witnesses.”

Zoe seated herself beside Brian in the cramped booth, but it was obvious that they were both uncomfortable by their closeness. Jean could’ve kicked herself. Why hadn’t she prevented this scene by plunking down beside Brian?

“I don’t know how the teenagers tolerate these cramped booths,” Zoe grumbled.

Brian turned watery eyes on her. “Simple. They LIKE to sit close together. You remember that age, don’t you, Red, when all your hormones were roaring in hyper-drive, and everything your mama ever warned you about boys seemed old-fashioned? Or is that all too far in the distant past for you to remember?”

Zoe turned with a retort on her lips, but Jean spoke first. “Did you guys order for us?”

“Made Rites all around,” Craig answered.

“Good choice,” Jean agreed.

“The only choice,” Brian mumbled.

In some circles the savory hamburger and tomato sauce mixture served on a bun was known as Sloppy Joes, but in this part of the state they were called Made Rites. Some people swore they could live on them, and other people wished that they could.

“So, how do you think the game will go tonight?” Jean asked, determined to get the conversation moving.

“Dexter will beat our skivvies off,” Brian answered.

“You can only hope, you dirty old man,” Zoe retorted, “since it’s the girls who are playing.”

Brian turned with a snarl and drew in his breath.

“Look! Our food is here!” Jean said brightly. “Doesn’t it look delicious?!”

They fell to eating, and the greasy, spicy mess was indeed delicious. Years later, they would fight fat and cholesterol because of meals like this one, but right now they naively dined and enjoyed themselves.

“Nutritionists claim that Made Rites are bad for us,” Zoe commented, just to keep an argument going. She resented having to sit next to Brian.

Brian rotated his head so that his rheumy eyes studied her. “Tell you what, Red. You just go have your grilled chicken breast on wheat with a side of steamed asparagus while we, the great unwashed, blindly indulge in a plateful of culinary sin.”

Zoe shrugged. “I was just repeating what nutritionists say.”

“And a hundred years from now, we’ll all be in the same cemetery together, you, me, and all of those health nuts. There’s no other way of getting around it, Red. Death is a fact of life.”

“My, aren’t we the cheery one tonight?” Zoe grumbled.

“These fries are nice and hot,” Jean said in her best perky voice.

“I can’t seem to get ours this crisp,” Zoe lamented.

“You can’t get the grease as hot as they can here at the cafe,” Jean answered. “And they use a huge pan while you have only a skillet.”

“You let this Amazon cook, Jean?”

“Of course, I cook, Landis. Jean and I take turns.”

“Jean must be one tough gal. Ouch! Those are my ribs, woman!”

“Watch your mouth then.”

“Oh, oh,” Craig warned as he glanced up. “Here comes Von Cramer. Wonder what he wants?”

“Can’t be to eat,” Zoe answered. “I bet mama has prepared a tasty, wholesome supper for him at home.”

“Something that would be approved by all of the leading nutritionists?” Brian mumbled.

“Be that as it may,” Jean said without moving her lips, “he’s headed our way and he doesn’t look happy.”

“What’s different about that?” Brian mumbled.

“Shh!” Jean cautioned. “Batten down the hatches, gang, storm clouds moving in fast.”

“How come nobody shushes her?” Brian demanded.

Zoe looked daggers at him.

Jean smiled brightly as Cramer stopped at their booth. “Good evening, Mr. Cramer! How are you this evening?”

Cramer was frowning and looked preoccupied. “Good evening, Miss, ah, ah, Harnett.” He nodded absently at the rest of the table.

Jean’s companions mumbled unenthusiastic greetings, then silence fell on the group.

“Won’t you join us?” Jean asked brightly and felt Craig nudge her leg.

“No, thank you, I can’t,” Cramer mumbled. “I just left the school and I have to go back at seven. I saw Miss Harnett’s car parked out front, and I was hoping that I might catch her and some of the rest of you in here, too.” Cramer’s voice was slowing, as if he was thinking aloud instead of talking. “I was hoping this was where you were.” 

When he didn’t continue, his listeners became uneasy.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Cramer?” Zoe finally asked. “Has something happened at school?”

Cramer blinked and seemed to remember where he was. He glanced around to see if anyone else was listening to them. His listeners looked around, too, but had no idea what they were looking for. A few other people were scattered among the booths, but they were mostly middle-aged and older people. No teenagers were present, for a change.

“Are any of you going to the basketball game tonight?” Cramer asked.

“We all are,” Craig answered. “It’s Jean’s turn to drive. That’s why you saw her car out front.”

“I’m glad someone will be attending from the faculty.”

“I expect Rose and Lacey will be there, too.”

“Good. I can’t be. There’s an emergency school board meeting at seven.”

The four diners glanced at each other. What had happened? And why wasn’t Cramer getting it spit out? The suspense was killing them.

“I should let Mr. Adair tell you tomorrow at the teachers’ meeting, but you might be asked about it tonight, so I’m going out on a limb and telling you something.”

His audience leaned toward him.

Cramer looked carefully to both sides of him, then pushed back his hat, leaned forward, and rested his knuckles on the table top. He was practically in Zoe’s and Jean’s faces. They wanted to lean back from his closeness, but they also wanted to catch what he had to say.

Cramer pursed his lips. “Mr. Stoneman resigned this afternoon.” He saw the startled looks and heard the intake of breath from his audience. “Diffuse the rumors however you can so the school will suffer as little as possible.”

“Oh, my,” Jean said at last. She’d felt an immediate relief that her enemy was gone, but then she felt concern for the school. How would this affect the students?

Cramer was looking at Jean. “I should have listened to you. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry I was right. But he couldn’t have resigned because of our little differences in professional opinions.”

“It appears that was just the tip of the iceberg, Miss Harnett.” Cramer straightened. “Mr. Stoneman wasn’t happy here.”

“I don’t know if he’ll be happy anywhere,” Jean mumbled and saw that Cramer agreed with her.

“That’s two resignations so far this year,” Brian muttered. “First Ruth Phillips whom Jean replaced and now Dennis Stoneman. I wonder who will make it three?”

Jean saw Zoe and Cramer look at Craig.

“Craig?!” She covered his hand with hers. “What does this mean?!”

“Last year I was thinking of leaving. A junior college in Ohio was interested in me. They, ah, still are.” He heard her sharp intake of breath and used his free hand to pat hers. “But I’m staying in this area, Jean. I think you know why.”

They smiled at each other.

“Glad to hear it, Martin,” Cramer said. “We could use some good news about now.”

Jean thought his voice had an edge to it, then realized that she and Craig were holding hands in public. And smiling softly at each other. Cramer was probably scandalized. She broke eye contact with Craig and quickly withdrew her hand. 

Cramer relaxed his grim mouth. “I’d better be on my way. Enjoy the game.”

“You say you have to go back to a meeting?” Jean asked. “What about your dinner?”

“That can wait, Miss Harnett.”

“Well, at least grab a few French fries off my plate.”

He looked at the fries with interest. “No, thank you.”

“Come on.” She pointed at a fry. “This one isn’t poisoned. And neither is this one. I can’t vouch for the others, but the ones I’ve eaten so far have been all right. And they taste great!”

Cramer grinned, and it was amazing how much younger he looked when he stopped frowning. “I suppose I shouldn’t ask how you can guarantee those two fries.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Her smile was fetching. “Call it faith.”

“In other words, you have no scientific data, just blind trust.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “It’s always worked for me.”

“All right, Miss Harnett. My stomach and I are putting our trust in you.” Cramer dipped the two fries in Jean’s mountain of catsup and ate them. “Thank you, Miss Harnett. And as advertised, they were delicious. Let us hope that any poison contained in them is slow acting.”

“It will be. It takes at least seventy years for any symptoms to surface. But that’s not enough for you to eat.” She broke off part of her sandwich and handed it to him.

Cramer help up his hand. “No, I couldn’t.”

“You don’t want a backset of the flu, do you? You must keep up your strength.”

“Well, all right. Thank you.” He ate the tasty treat, then was startled as he was met with three more partial sandwiches offered by the other diners at the table.

“No, I couldn’t,” he whispered softly. “But I do appreciate the gesture. I appreciate that almost as much as the food. Miss Harnett, I am overwhelmed. I-- Thank you. I thank all of you. It is very reassuring.” He turned to go. “Good evening.”

“Mr. Cramer--”

He turned back. “Yes, Miss Harnett?”

“You have a spot of catsup on your cheek. Yes, you got it off. I hope your meeting doesn’t last too long so that you can get a proper dinner.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night. To all of you. And I, ah, thank you,” Cramer mumbled, then turned and left.

The table was quiet for a full minute after the door closed on him.

Finally Craig stirred. “I think you touched him, Jean. He was a little misty-eyed when he left. He must doubt our loyalty most of the time.”

“It just seemed like the decent thing to do, Craig. He seemed awfully down when he came in.”

“I felt like crying myself,” Zoe agreed.

“Me, too.” Brian sniffed loudly and wiped at imaginary tears. “Aw! Will you keep your elbow out of my ribs?! Everyone else was getting weepy, why can’t I?”

“Because you don’t mean it.”

“After that last elbow thrust, I think I do.”

“Come on, you two. Eat up. Or Jean will have to drive fast, and I don’t think any of us want to experience that.”

“And from a beginning driver, at that. Ah ha, missed me, Flame Hair! Oof!”

“Is my aim better?”

“You’re going to get your elbow all bruise up if you keep doing that. And now I’m beginning to think it’s dangerous being around Jean, too. All that sweetness and human compassion is contagious. I can’t believe I was actually willing to give up part of my sandwich. I must’ve been momentarily dazzled by Jean’s goodness.”

Zoe gave him a critical look. “With that spare tire around your middle, it wouldn’t hurt if you’d given him the rest of your sandwich.”

“Jean! Do I get to gouge HER in the ribs now?!”

“Only if you’re suicidal. She probably does worse things than punch ribs.”

With a frown, he studied Zoe’s self-satisfied face. “You’re probably right.”

 

Later, as Jean drove past school, she glanced at it and thought about Cramer trapped inside.

“The road’s over here,” Brian prompted. “Aha, Flame Hair! You can’t touch me! I’m in the back seat.”

“Next time I’ll bring my ruler and settle your hash in short order.”

“Honestly, you two!” Jean scolded. “It’s like listening to the Bickersons. You sound like an old married couple. Fred Allen and his wife would be proud of you.”

The silence inside the car was deafening.

“Notice that, Jean?” Craig asked. “As Simon and Garfunkel would say, that’s the ‘sounds of silence.’ I think you’ve finally managed to quiet them down.”

“On the contrary,” Brian retorted. “She’s done something far more extraordinary. She’s united us with a common cause: Bergetti and Landis against dullness. You have to admit that nothing’s ever dull with us around.”

“He has us there, Craig. The party’s always going on with them along.”

“Wait a minute!” Zoe retorted. “Don’t I get a vote in this partnership? I’m not sure I want to agree with Landis about anything, especially common causes.”

“That’s right, partner. Any cause we’re involved with is surely uncommon.”

“Don’t agree with me, Landis!”

“I know something we can all agree on,” Jean said. “I think it’s wonderful that we get to share this evening together.”

“There she goes with all that sugary sweetness again.” 

“Shut up, Landis. You know that’s what you like about Jean.”

“Oh, no! Don’t tell me you’re going to get all sugary sweet, too, Bergetti! Where’s my champion of pessimism?! Leave me with some illusions!”

Jean caught Craig’s eye in the rearview mirror and shook her head. This was the way the other two were going to be all evening, and somehow Jean and Craig would be disappointed if they weren’t.

 

Cramer glanced out his office window and watched Jean’s car traveling west out of town toward Dexter. In a few minutes Cramer had to attend the emergency board meeting, and he didn’t want to go. Although he had nothing to answer for and the results of the meeting would be a foregone conclusion, he would rather be in that westbound car that was fast disappearing from view. He wanted to be in the company of those four young people who liked each other and were going to have an enjoyable evening out together. 

He hadn’t realized how fragile his nerves were until Miss Harnett had shared her food with him. It showed that she cared for his welfare, and the gesture had touched him deeply. And when the others had offered him part of their sandwiches, too, well, it was almost more than he could bear. At that moment, he longed for nothing more than to pull a chair up to their table, eat with them, and join their group for the ball game.

Perhaps, if the meeting tonight didn’t last too long, he could still catch most of the basketball game at Dexter. He could grab a hotdog there and call it supper. He knew his mother would encourage him to go, to be where there was noise and excitement and other young people. He might even be able to sit with the four faculty members who were now lost to sight. He would like that.

But would they? They wouldn’t openly shun him, but he knew he would spoil their party. They’d tolerate him, but they certainly wouldn’t welcome him into their group.

He’d known that this break with the faculty would happen when he became an administrator, but it didn’t make their alienation hurt any less. He really couldn’t blame them, though, but he envied them their carefree laughter.

With an inward sigh, he trudged toward the school library where the board meeting was to be held. His mother would have his dinner waiting when he was finished here at school, and then he could watch that good detective show that he generally missed on Tuesday nights because he was attending some basketball game. And then he could get to bed early for a change, content that he was doing a good job for the school.

He could almost whip up enthusiasm for the rest of the evening and forget what he was missing with the others.

Almost.

 

“You might have surmised that I knew more about the conflict between you and Mr. Stoneman than I was willing to say in front of your friends last night.”

Jean lowered her hand from the class assignment that she was writing on the chalkboard and faced Robert Cramer. “I wasn’t sure,” she murmured.

“Did he try to force his attentions on you?” Cramer asked.

Jean nearly laughed at his quaint wording, but she realized that he was trying to spare her feelings by asking as delicately as he could. “Well, yes, he did make a pass,” Jean confessed as she played with the chalk in her hand.

“Why didn’t you say something about the incident?” Cramer demanded as he stood by her desk. He was trying to keep his eyes from blazing in indignation and wasn’t succeeding very well.

To avoid your anger, Jean thought, and Brian’s and Craig’s anger, too, if they’d learned of Stoneman’s behavior. She knew that the three men would’ve defended her honor, and she was afraid of the trouble that might’ve been stirred up for them. Besides, there would’ve been the embarrassment for her.

Jean returned the chalk to its niche in the chalkboard. “I thought it was something I could handle myself. I didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

“And what if he had returned and been more adamant with his attentions?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. She hadn’t considered that possibility. Her eyes looked scared.

Cramer’s lips formed one thin line. “I don’t want you ever, ever to let something like that to happen again without telling me! Do you understand me?!”

“Yes, Mr. Cramer,” she whispered. “Please don’t be angry.”

“I’m not angry with you!” He fought to gain his self-control. “After all, you’re the victim here.”

“Don’t you know that the victim always feels a little guilty, as if she’d been the one who’d done something wrong to cause the violence?”

“Yes, I’ve heard that. Miss Harnett, you have to realize that I feel a little responsible for your unfortunate experience with Mr. Stoneman.”

Jean frowned. “How?”

“I knew there was friction between you two, and I asked him to talk to you and try to come to some mutual understanding. I didn’t realize until later that personal matters also figured into the problem.”

“Don’t blame yourself. I was fooled, too. I knew that I didn’t like the man, but I thought the only controversy between us was a difference in educational theory. How did this other thing come about?”

“Apparently you represent everything in the kind of woman that he’ll never have.”

Jean shivered. “Lucky me.” She looked at Cramer with great, sorrowing eyes. “His poor wife. And nobody can do anything for her.”

“Not until she asks for help, I’m afraid.”

“I won’t be that stupid again, Mr. Cramer. I appreciate your offer to help,” she said with a warm smile.

“The welfare of my faculty is uppermost in my mind.”

Doggone that smug, impersonal tone in his voice! As if the only thing between them was a personal relationship. How could that be on a small faculty? And after some of the things they’d been through together.

It turned a devil loose in her.

“Thank goodness I’m on the faculty,” she said demurely.

The irony in her voice was not lost on him. “I didn’t mean it quite that way, Miss Harnett. Of course I’m interested in you as a person, also.”

Jean arched her eyebrow and turned aside. “Thank goodness I’m a person.”

Cramer expelled his breath noisily. “There’s all types of persons on a school faculty.”

Was he being evasive, or was he simply dense?

“Difficulties arise while trying to keep that mixture in balance,” he continued.

Dense, she decided. Didn’t he know when he was being teased?

“Personalities conflict, Miss Harnett, and yours definitely is, ah, unique.”

She couldn’t let that pass. Her eyes twinkled. “And interesting?”

“And sometimes exasperating.”

“But never dull. Right?”

“I don’t know if that’s a valid qualification for teachers to possess, Miss Harnett.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Cramer. Students appreciate knowing that their teachers have some ginger in their personalities.” She tilted her head. “It just might help you to add some spice to your life.”

This time he wasn’t dense. Cramer blushed, and Jean gasped.

“Oh, I didn’t mean--” She laughed at the double meaning of her words. “Sorry, I wasn’t offering.”

“I, ah, know, ah, now.”

A demon made her take advantage of his discomfort. She gave him a wise look. “There’s all kinds of spices out there, Mr. Cramer. And you know what they say about variety?”

“I’m afraid I’m not as good at banter as you are, Miss Harnett. I sometimes misunderstand your meaning. Why, recently you offered me a kiss, and I discovered a piece of candy in my hand. That might have been disappointing to some people.”

She gave him a quick look and saw intelligence behind his glasses. He wasn’t as dense as he acted because now he was teasing her.

It was her turn to blush, and she didn’t really know why.

“Just another form of variety, Mr. Cramer.” She wouldn’t let him get ahead of her. “And it doesn’t hurt, at all. You might try it sometime.”

“Yes, of course,” he muttered. Her gentle teasing must be making him feel uncomfortable. “Just so there’s no misunderstanding,” he said, edging toward the door. “If you ever need my help for anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cramer,” she said, fascinated by his sudden shyness. “I won’t.”

Strange man, she thought after he left. He let people get only so close before shoving them away. Oh, well, she thought as she mentally dusted him aside, she had much better things to think about than his hang-ups. Christmas was fast approaching with all sorts of plans to complete for home and school.

But it was nice to know that she could count on Mr. Cramer’s help if she needed it. He was a good administrator. Too bad he wasn’t also a good friend.

Oh, well, she had plenty of other people who were good friends. She’d better concentrate on them and stop letting Cramer creep into her thoughts. But she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, too. If only he wasn’t so hard on himself! If he’d loosen up and let people like him, he might find that he had a lot of friends.

Maybe it was the Christmas season and maybe she was just being generous, but she began to worry about Cramer despite her efforts to concentrate on other matters. She supposed part of it stemmed from his lecture on Stoneman that’d shown Jean that Cramer cared for her welfare. And that made him a little more human to her.

 

Jean was driving down Main Street when she pointed to a stranger and said to Mrs. Doubleday, “Who is that good looking soldier?”

Iris Doubleday glanced at the tall, blonde man with the pleasant smile and said, “That’s Paul Cramer.”

“As in THE Paul Cramer, Mr. Cramer’s older brother? Hmm,” Jean said in appreciation.

Mrs. D. laughed. “Don’t get too interested. He’s been dating Elise Ott.”

“Are they engaged?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Hmm. Woodstock just got a lot more interesting.”

 

The days before Christmas vacation seemed to fly and suddenly it was time for the school’s holiday party.

A light snow had begun to fall, Jean noticed as she opened the door of her apartment. “Hi, Craig! Come on in. I’ll just be a minute.”

“Hey, you look real Christmas-y!” He grinned with appreciation. “That’s quite an outfit.”

“Like it?” Jean whirled, and the bright red felt skirt flared out in a circle. The black velveteen blouse featured a deep, rounded neck and tiny cap sleeves. “I made it myself with my own handy, dandy needle and thread.”

“Well, you did a good job. Hey, what’s that white band in your hair made out of?”

“Angora. I used it around the bottom of the skirt, too.”

He shook his head in approval. “Just one look at you, and I know what Santa wants to find in his stocking. You’re as cute as a snow bunny.”

Jean blushed, then allowed Craig to help her into her tan dress coat. She breathed the cold air in deeply as they left her apartment.

“Let’s walk to the schoolhouse!”

“What?!” he asked with a laugh.

“Let’s leave your car here and walk.”

“It’s four blocks! Four LONG blocks.”

“Come on, old man,” she said with a laugh. “Stop complaining. I’m the one wearing heels.”

“Well, as long as you’re game--” He glanced up into the dark sky. “It is nice out. Not a bit chilly.”

“Oh, look! It’s snowing!”

He gave her a skeptical look. “How did you do that?”

She grinned. “Do what?”

“Get it to snow on cue.”

“I’m not telling.” She grabbed his arm. “Not in a hundred, hundred years!”

Arm-in-arm, they started out with the hug snowflakes drifting lazily down on them.

“It doesn’t feel cold enough to snow,” Craig noted.

“No wind. If it was, the wind chill index would be killing us. And we’d be riding in your car.”

“I just found a plus for the wind chill index.”

“Stop complaining!” She glanced at his brown hair flecked with snow and laughed merrily.

“What’s so funny?”

“There’s a huge snowflake on the end of your nose. It makes you look like the droll old king of snow mountain. You know, he was the guy who was one hundred and ninety years old, and the snowflake stayed on his nose so long that it became a wart.”

“Good heavens!” Craig knocked the offending snowflake away. “I don’t need any wart. I’m ugly enough already.”

Laughter gurgled up from some deep reservoir in Jean’s throat. The cold air had stirred the blood in her cheeks, and the fire of life burned in her snapping blue eyes.

“I bet snow doesn’t do for me what it does for you,” Craig remarked. “You’re going to make a very beautiful sister-in-law.”

“Sister-in-law?!” She grabbed his arm. “Really?!”

“I hope so.”

“You’ve asked Brenna?”

“No, I want to give her more time. She’s still writing to that guy in Vietnam. Do you know how serious it is between them?”

“Well, they’re pretty good friends, being high school classmates and all. She started corresponding with him after he joined the Marines because she felt he should have letters from home. She thinks a lot of him, but personally,” she wrinkled her nose at him, “I think you stand a pretty good chance with her. I think it would be wonderful if you and Brenna got engaged.”

“I can’t ask her just yet, but I wanted you to know how I felt about her. Can this be our little secret for awhile?”

“You bet! This is too important to me to spill the beans and spoil it.” They walked on silently, and Jean leaned on his arm. “I’ll love having a big, strong brother like you. You’re just what I always wanted. Brenna and I used to play a game with Daddy. Mother had a set of crocks in various sizes and colors. The big brown crock belonged to Daddy because he was the biggest. The second, I think it was maroon, was Mother’s. Mine was rose and Brenna’s was turquoise. The smallest was tan and held about a pint if you filled it to the brim. Brenna and I felt sorry for it because it belonged to no one, so we made up a baby brother. I didn’t realize it then, but I think Daddy must have been very disappointed that he and Mother had never had a son. Maybe now they’ll have that son.” She smiled at him. “I’m so very glad we’re such good friends, Craig. You know, I always worried about the guy my sister would marry. How would he be accepted into our family? Would I be jealous of him? Brenna is my only sister, you know. But I don’t feel that way about you at all, Craig. I’m just so very grateful for you.”

Craig paused at the gym door. “And I’m grateful for you, too, Jean. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d never have met Brenna.” He drew a line from her brow along her nose and gave it a light punctuation mark on its tip. “I’m glad I’m taking you to the Christmas Dance, my little snow bunny.”

“And I’m glad, too, my old man of the snow mountain.” She wiped another snowflake off his face. “We’d better get inside before your nose gets drifted in.”

He yanked the heavy door open, and a rush of noise and heat greeted them. Inside, the air was overly warm and the smells of oranges and pine needles and bayberry candles overwhelmed the nose with pungent aromas. The gym was filled with talking and colored streamers and students uncomfortable in Sunday clothes and Sunday manners. Boys in suits and girls in bright wools or semi-formals chatted together and milled around the floor’s edge.

The other end of the gym was completely dominated by an immense Christmas tree. Homemade strings of popcorn and cranberry chains dipped between the branches of the nine-foot fir. And at the tip of each branch perched a flickering candle. No other light illuminated the dance floor.

“Isn’t it wonderful, Craig? This is the way a Christmas tree should look. I bet the kids are really proud of the tree they decorated themselves.”

“An old-fashioned Christmas tree. You know, Cramer can’t be all bad if he came up with this idea.”

“My dear boy, the old-fashioned Christmas tree was MY idea, if you please. I suggested it to Mr. Cramer and he thought it was marvelous. Personally, I think he approved the plan because burning candles would save electricity.”

“Your idea, eh? Watch yourself, Miss Harnett, or you just might find yourself becoming indispensable to our beloved principal.”

“Silly! I doubt if any woman can ever be indispensable to that man.”

Craig laughed, then took her arm. “Come on. Let’s grab a chair.”

The orchestra, ‘The Wildcat’ from Springfield, was finishing the first song to which nobody by tradition had danced. When the second number began, Craig and Jean took the floor.

The dance floor was pleasantly crowded as students and faculty members alike danced to the charming waltz.

“I can’t get over how nice they all look tonight,” Jean said. “Dark suits and ties certainly make a difference in the boys. I barely recognize some of them.”

“The girls aren’t exactly slouches, either, you know. They look so feminine and cuddly in their white wools and pastel boucles and new hairdos.” He sighed deeply. “Ah, what a man gives up for marriage!”

“Silly! You would notice the girls.”

“Of course.”

“I’d like to hear what Brian thinks about the kids now.”

“Oh, ho! His words would be golden and his observations worthy of being etched on the Rosetta Stone. Nothing will ever change his opinion of these kids.”

“Now, Craig. Don’t let his sarcasm fool you. Deep down, Brian likes the kids. He just likes to act tough. In fact, he’s the most wonderful big bad wolf I know.”

“Of course, you’d feel that way about him. If we let you, you’d adopt the whole world. How come you have to be so understanding, anyway?”

“Someone does. Besides, I know how hard it is to understand me. Sometimes, I think I have people completely baffled, and I don’t understand why. I understand me perfectly.”

“Well, that makes at least one person who can.”

The music stopped and they went back to their chairs. Janet Minx smiled up at Jean and self-consciously touched her upswept hair.

“You look real nice tonight, Miss Harnett,” Janet said from behind her dainty, black-rimmed glasses.

“Thank you, Janet. Who did your hair? It’s absolutely right with your blue sheath.”

“Maxine Braun. Boy, was she ever rushed, too!”

“I know. I couldn’t get an appointment. I had to go clear to Fredericksburg.”

“Really? Well, the trip was certainly worth it. I love your hair.”

“Thanks, again, Janet.”

Janet leaned around Jean. “And you look nice tonight, too, Mr. Martin.”

He primped. “Oh, Pete the barber deserves all the credit. But, thank you, Janet.”

“You idiot!” Jean chided as she poked him in the ribs.

“You’ve been around Zoe too long. Your elbow is dangerous.”

“I don’t have her force, though.”

Jean and Craig watched the gyrating figures before them.

“If I could get half that performance out of the PE girls, I’d feel pretty good. Listen, Jean, I’m going to hunt Zoe up and ask her to dance. I haven’t seen her on the floor yet. Will you mind being left alone for awhile?”

“I’ll survive, Prince Charming. And at least Zoe will get to dance once tonight.”

Craig left and Jean watched the dancers for awhile. Then she wandered toward the refreshment stand.

“What’ll you have, Miss Harnett?”

“My money’s out on the dance floor with Mr. Martin, Timmy.”

“It’s on the house.”

“No, thanks. I’ll wait. Besides, I wanted to talk to Mr. Landis.”

Landis spotted Jean, and she grinned as he approached.

“Hi! How’s business?”

Wearily, he leaned on his elbows and talked across the counter. “Confidentially, I don’t know how those damn kids can drink all that pop and still dance. By all rights, they should be standing in line at the bathrooms.”

“Oh, come on, Brian! Weren’t you ever a teenager?”

“No, sweet thing. I passed immediately from an obedient child to a responsible adult. None of that mixed-up period of years for me. Just look at them out there. Even gyrating apes at a jungle hoe-down have more self-respect.”

“They do seem to be enjoying themselves, don’t they?”

“Enjoying themselves?” He muttered something under his breath. “I see that your date has forsaken you for another woman.”

“That’s because someone else hasn’t asked her to dance. I’ll say it plainer. Why don’t YOU ask Zoe to dance?”

“And give her grounds for murder? Besides, one of us has to be behind the counter.”

“I’ll watch the stand, if you think it needs watching.”

“Can’t chance it. These kids might mutiny and I wouldn’t be at my post.”

“Why don’t you stop fighting with Zoe? You’d have a lot more fun as friends.”

“Can’t.” He picked up two empty cokes.

“Why not?”

“Gotta hate her.”

“Why?”

“Who knows?!” He waved the bottles in the air and stowed them beneath the counter. “Who knows with that one?” he muttered as he started wiping the counter with a towel. “Maybe she’s the type of person one has to have a definite opinion about. You either gotta hate her or love her.”

“Then, why don’t you love her?”

He stopped wiping the damp counter and glared at Jean. “And why don’t you go dance with someone?” he snapped and turned away.

Jean blinked and stared at his retreating figure. Good gosh! Someone had finally hit Brian Landis where he lived. This running feud with Zoe, begun because they were bored with Woodstock’s smallness, was starting to wear on their nerves. They irritated each other and tried to out-do each other with their dry, almost malicious, humor. Maybe now there were other, deeper feelings. Hmm.

Jean wandered away in a deep daze. What this situation called for was some very careful meddling. It was about time that a third party did something to bring those two combatants to their senses. But she had to be careful, or she might succeed in only alienating Brian and Zoe further from each other.

“I hope the problem will soon be solved, Miss Harnett.”

“Oh! Mr. Cramer! I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s understandable.” That smug, tolerant smile was on his face again. “I doubt if you were seeing anybody here. You’re at the Christmas dance, remember?”

“Of course, I remember, Mr. Cramer. The Christmas tree was my first clue.”

“Now, now, Miss Harnett, there’s no need to be sarcastic. You’ve apparently been sampling the Wassail bowl too much.”

“And, you, apparently, have been sampling too little!” She had no idea why his smugness was needling her tonight, but she wanted to take her frustrations out on somebody and he was handy.

“My goodness,” he said, clicking his tongue. “I must have really interrupted some important thinking. Tell me, what could have our Little Miss Sunshine been planning?”

Her mouth twisted in a crooked smile as she narrowed her eyes. He was practically asking for her anger. “I was planning how I could get you to dance with me.”

He smiled back with his best patronizing smile. “And start rumors? You don’t want the students to think we actually agree on something, do you?”

“That would be a refreshing change, wouldn’t it? And what a more perfect time, don’t you think?” She smiled too sweetly. “It being Christmas and all, you know.”

“Peace on earth, good will to men? That’s assuming they still believe in Santa Claus.”

“What burr is caught under your saddle?”

“Sometimes there’s too much sweetness and light at Christmas.”

“Never!”

“And that, Miss Harnett, is the basic difference between us. Now, excuse me, won’t you?” he asked with grimness under his voice. “I have to get back to my post.”

“But--” She held out her hand as if to stop him. “I really wanted to dance,” she mumbled. Then she remembered something and called out to him, “Merry Christmas, Mr. Cramer!”

Cramer turned toward her to return her greetings. But before he could answer, a student drew him aside.

Jean walked back to her chair and waited until a flushed and grinning Craig returned.

“Boy!” he declared, plopping into his chair. “Can that Zoe dance! Three fast dances with her and I’m ready for Retirement Village!”

“Really?” she responded vaguely.

“Hey! What’s wrong with you?” he asked, leaning closer. “Lose that old Christmas spirit while I was gone?”

She smiled bravely. “’Course not. But I just asked two guys to dance with me, and they both turned me down.”

“Who? Brian and Cramer?”  
“Isn‘t it terrible that we know just how those two will act?! Craig, is it me or do you notice a remarkable chill in the air tonight? Brian bit off my head, and Cramer treated me like a child.”

“Gosh, you really did strike out. I’ll remember to avoid both of them.”

“I wish someone would’ve clued me in before I approached them.”

“Come on, teach. Let me put the stars back in your eyes.” Craig led her through a modern step and Jean automatically relaxed and enjoyed herself again. As they were walking from the floor, she glanced at the refreshment stand. She could tell by Landis’s grim mouth and by Zoe’s animated face as she talked, that they were fighting again. Jean turned away from them and saw Cramer leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he moodily watched the festivities.

“I feel like I’m at a funeral.”

“Come on, Jean, smile. It’s Christmas. Let‘s see a pretty face to match that pretty dress that you‘re wearing.”

“For you, Craig, anything.” But her smile was faint.

At that moment a tall, pleasant looking man approached them, and Jean recognized the soldier that Mrs. D. had pointed out as being Paul Cramer.

“Hello, Martin.”

Craig stood and shook Cramer’s hand. “Well, hello! I thought you were in the Air Force.”

“I just got my discharge. Civilian clothes are still feeling funny to wear. Say, your football team did pretty good this fall. I followed them through the Woodstock Bulletin.”

“Yes, we’re all proud of our record, and thank you for following them. Oh, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Jean Harnett. Jean, this is Paul Cramer.”

Cramer took Jean’s hand. “Good evening, Miss Harnett. You must be new this year. I don’t know your name.”

“Well, I’ve heard yours, Mr. Cramer.”

“Oh, oh, the story’s out. Yes, I’m Paul Cramer.” He smiled and dimples appeared in his cheeks. “And all you’ve heard about me is probably true.”

“I was thinking more about your being the brother of our principal.”

“Let’s not bring a sour note into the conversation.” He grinned at the shocked look on Jean’s face. “I’m only teasing, Miss Harnett. I’m my brother’s biggest fan. I happen to think he’s great.”

“So do we here at the school.”

“Oh, ho! You can’t tell me that. Bob may be well respected, but he is not well liked.”

Jean looked carefully at this suave man. There was no pretense about him, only a nice smile. She liked him.

The music started.

“Martin, do you mind if I steal your girl for this dance?”

“Be my guest.”

Cramer held out his hand. “Dance, Jean? That is, if I may call you ‘Jean?’”

“Of course. In fact, it would be my infinite pleasure.”

Cramer danced away and Jean followed his masterful lead.

“Hey, you’re pretty good!”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Cramer.”

“Paul. Please.”

“All right. Paul.”

For the next few steps, Paul earnestly studied something behind Jean. “Look at Bob standing over there trying to feel sorry for himself.” He whirled Jean around, and she saw Robert Cramer standing near the gymnasium door, his arms crossed, his face a sullen mask.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Paul. He’s just watching the kids and doesn’t want to leave his responsibility.”

“And what are they going to do? Riot? I saw you trying to get him to dance with you awhile ago. You must be a pretty determined young lady.”

“I’m a Girl Scout and was only doing my good deed for the day. Now I won’t get my Merit Badge since he refused my offer to dance.”

“I don’t know why he doesn’t loosen up a little.” A worried look scarred his handsome face. “I’ve tried to tell him that there’s something else in life besides work.”

“I know.” She looked up into the troubled face that seemed so open. It must be difficult for Paul to hide emotion. He probably appeared naive and vulnerable to most people. The same way she appeared, she realized with a start. “Why does your brother act that way? Why doesn’t he want to have any fun?”

“He is. He’s having the time of his life acting sullen.” Suddenly, Paul’s face lit up with a wide grin. “Let’s talk about something more interesting, like you. What do you teach here?”

“English.”

“English? Oooh!”

“I gather English wasn’t your best subject.”

“Let’s put it this way. There were a lot of other subjects that I liked a whole better.”

“And now that you’re out of the service, what are you going to do?”

“Well, I really don’t know. I think next fall I might go back to State.”

“You’ve been to college, then?”

“Oh, yes. I’d just finished my second year when the draft caught me. I’ve been lucky that I didn’t have to go to Vietnam. I’ve been in Germany for three years.”

“What were you studying to be at college?”

“An electrical engineer, but it’s going to take a lot of schooling.”

“Then, why don’t you start with this spring semester?”

“I don’t think so. I’d rather just rest for the next few months and get a few matters straightened out. Think I’ll just bum around.” He grinned at her. “Think I’d make a good bum?” The music stopped and he led her back to her chair beside Craig.

“You’d be interesting.”

“And you’ve been most interesting, Miss Harnett. Thank you for the dance. Martin, I’m giving her back, but I don’t want to. She’s very charming.”

“Glad you enjoyed her company.”

Paul grinned at them and left.

“Nice guy,” Jean said.

“Yeah. Nothing like his brother.”

“Paul seemed worried about him.”

“I expect if Robert Cramer were my brother, I’d be worried, too.” Craig looked at Jean closely. “You sure made an impression on Paul Cramer, and he certainly cheered you up.”

“I could go for him, Craig.”

“Are you forgetting Elise Ott?”

“Well, she’s seemed to have forgotten him. Hmmm. Maybe she’s the personal business he has to clear up.”

“Anyway, it’s nice to see you smiling again.”

She grinned and her smile was genuine this time.

 

Later, Craig and Jean and the dancers, both young and old, sat around the Christmas tree and sang traditional Christmas carols. The overhead lights in the gym were dimmed, and the soft glow of candles shone on the enchanted faces of the students. For a half hour, these adults and near-adults were transported back to childhood days when Christmas was a breathless waiting for Santa Claus.

Jean thought of long ago church programs when she had held onto Brenna’s small hand. Jean couldn’t remember her first program, but she could certainly remember Brenna’s when her sister had been nothing more than a toddler. During that first program, Brenna had done little but suck her thumb. The second year’s program saw her mouthing the words, but by the third year Brenna was singing with creased brow and dogged determination. Jean, however, always sang for the sheer beauty of the words and the flow of the music. Tears would come to her eyes, and she would feel such a tremendous love for her family, her friends, and the whole world that she thought her heart would burst with the emotion.

That was the feeling Jean experienced now. The familiar, sentimental carols tugged at her heart; and she felt warm and cozy and very close to everyone. She snuggled closer to Craig and he must have understood how she felt for he reached over and patted her hand. She looked into the young faces of the high school students. She loved them. She loved them all, even the naughty ones. They were all so strong and ready for tomorrow. They had no fear of the future. They didn’t look back, only straight into tomorrow. And that was one of the many reasons why she enjoyed working with them.

‘If only Brian could see them now,’ she thought. But when she searched the crowd for him, she couldn’t see him. And Zoe was absent, too.

“Excuse me, Craig.”

“Hurry back.”

Jean picked her way toward the refreshment stand, but it was unoccupied except for a plump Freshman girl.

“Linda, have you seen Miss Bergetti or Mr. Landis?”

“They’re in the cloak room getting more popcorn.”

Sure, they were. And maybe they’re settling their little differences while they’re at it. All of Jean’s antenna went up, and she had to investigate.

But Jean could tell by the sarcastic voices coming from the cloak room that nothing had changed between Brian and Zoe.

“Looks like all this popcorn would kill them,” Brian muttered as he pulled several bags of popcorn out of the storage cabinets.

Zoe stood back, watching him work. “What do you care? You hate them anyway, don’t you?”

“Just don’t want them doing something stupid while I’m sponsoring them,” Brian muttered as he set the sacks down on a table.

“You act like those sacks are heavy.”

“Don’t touch them, woman! I don’t want to have to take you to the emergency room with a sprained back.”

“Oh, you’re exaggerating! Why-- Oh, wow! Those are heavy!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to leave those sacks alone?! Silly females, anyway. Watch out, or you‘ll get hurt.”

Jean glanced at the mistletoe over the door frame and stepped inside the cloak room. “Hi, kids. You’re missing out on the singing.”

Zoe turned with a smile and unfolded her arms. “Hi, Jean. Having fun? You should be with that active date you’ve got. Boy, Craig can really dance up a storm. More than I can say for SOME people, though,” she said pointedly and stared at Brian Landis.  
“All he’s interested in doing is checking popcorn we don’t need.”

And maybe Brian had used the popcorn as an excuse to maneuver Zoe into a private area. But for some reason, Brian hadn’t taken the next logical step. Unless he didn’t realize his real motives.

Time for some meddling, Jean decided. She glanced at the mistletoe again and cleared her throat. “Zoe, can I see you a moment?”

“Sure.” Zoe walked toward her. “What can I do for you, Jean?”

“Brian, this involves you, too.”

Brian give the popcorn sacks a final swat and sauntered over. “Well?”

Jean stepped inside. “Know where you’re standing, kids?” 

All three glanced up at the mistletoe.

“Happy holidays!” Jean crowed. 

Zoe and Brian glared at each other, and both took one giant step back inside the cloak room.

“Ah, ah. You didn’t say ‘May I?’” Jean said, flustered that her plan had failed.

At that moment Robert Cramer poked his head around the corner of the door. “Is Miss Harnett in here?” He spotted Jean and started to step inside. “I wanted to catch you before you left, Miss Harnett. I didn’t get to wish you a--”

“Mr. Cramer!” Zoe gushed as she grabbed his arm.

An amazed Cramer stared wordlessly at her.

“Did you know you’re standing under the mistletoe?!”

Cramer glanced over his head and, at the same time, Zoe pulled his head down and kissed him on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas!” Zoe declared.

Cramer’s startled eyes stared at Jean and then at Brian; and all of the good, warm feeling of Christmas left Jean.

“That’s it, Bergetti!” Brian spat out. “You’ve finally managed to make an unforgettable Christmas memory for all of us! Let the joy of the Yuletide season fill the air! Tra La! Tra La!” A scowl twisted Brian’s face. “Rubbish! Rubbish to it all. Especially you, Red. You’d give the Grinch a bad name!” Brian grabbed his topcoat. “And to all, a good night!” He stormed away from them.

A minute later, the other three heard the gym door slam.

Jean felt cold and alone, and she wanted to go somewhere by herself and cry.  
Head down, she stepped past Zoe and Cramer. “Excuse me,” she mumbled.

“Miss Harnett--” Cramer grabbed her passing arm, not roughly but with authority. His voice was soft and gentle and his blue eyes were filled with concern. “Please.”

She glanced up at him and suddenly tears blurred her vision. Cramer saw the tears and moved closer to her, as if to protect her.

“Y-yes, Mr. Cramer?” she whispered.

“I didn’t get to return your well wishes.” He said it gently as looked steadily into her eyes. “Merry Christmas, Miss Harnett. I hope you celebrate many more of them here at Woodstock High.”

She nodded numbly in reply. “Thank you, Mr. Cramer,” she whispered. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me.”

Cramer released her arm and watched as she picked up her wrap and walked silently out of the building.

“Boy, did I blow that!” Zoe declared.

“Just what happened in here?”

“Oh, Jean maneuvered Landis and me under the mistletoe, but she shouldn’t have tried that little matchmaking game with us. Sorry you got caught in the crossfire.”

“So am I.” He glanced with concern at the gym door. “Do you think someone should go after her?”

“Oh, she’ll be okay. It’s the season. Christmas does that to some people, especially those with easy emotions like Jean has. It must be awful to ride the roller coaster of happiness and sadness the way she does.”

“Or wonderful. At least, she feels something and can react to it.”

Zoe frowned. Was Cramer realizing that he held too tight a rein on his emotions?

“Well,” Zoe said, stirring herself. “I’d better find Craig and tell him what’s happened. Otherwise, he’ll be looking for Jean. They came here together. He’s probably noticed, too, how moody she is tonight. “No, she just wants to be alone. Jean’s been moody all day, almost melancholy. Maybe she just needs a good cry.”

“Maybe I need a good cry, too,” Cramer mumbled to himself. Then to Zoe, he said, “Sometimes holidays are difficult to take. Too many activities can be going on. Some people wear themselves out with parties and shopping. And other people wish they could be a small part of it all.”

Zoe blinked. “I never thought I’d hear you say something like that. How could you understand all that? Unless, you’ve experienced it?” She frowned. “You? In your hometown? With your family around? I can’t believe that.”

“It happens.”

“I’m sorry. And I understand it. But I have no family. Well, there is an uncle, but he lives a distance away.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“We’re feeling properly sorry for ourselves, too, aren’t we?”

“Yes, and we don’t have the luxury of doing that.” He seemed to remember who he was and where he was and withdrew back into his shell. “The dance is still going on, Miss Bergetti. I suggest we return to our duties, since we seem to have lost some of our sponsors.”

“But--”

“I think we best forget the little scene we witnessed. ALL of the scene.”

“Yes, sir.” Odd man, she thought as she watched him walk away. He wouldn’t let anyone get close or help him even when someone saw a crack in his facade.

 

Outside, Jean pulled her coat around her and hugged it close to her. The temperature had dropped, and the long walk to her apartment wasn’t half as appealing as it had been earlier. She lowered her head and was crossing the street in front of the school as Brian’s battered cream station wagon pulled up beside her.

“Hop in.”

She shook her head.

“Come on. Be a pal. I want some company.”

She jumped in and silently they drove. An hour later found them in a Springfield bar, sipping mixed drinks.

“I’m sorry, Brian.”

“Forget it. Just don’t be matchmaker for us again.”

“I don’t get it. I’ve had perfect judgment up ‘til now.”

“Listen, princess, Zoe and I have fun fighting with each other. Don’t spoil that fun with something sticky. We can stand to be in the same room without killing each other, so let’s let it go as that, okay?” He studied the liquor in his glass. “But I sure didn’t like the way she kissed Cramer. That embarrassed the poor guy.”

“Can’t understand it.” She slammed her drink on the table, sloshing some. She was getting a little tight, and she really didn’t care. “It’s Christmas, and I feel like crying.”

“You’re just catching up with me.”

“How do you handle it?”

“Drink up. That’ll solve everything.”

 

Hours later, a telephone rang in the night. A sleepy Robert Cramer sat up in bed, reached for his glasses, and poked himself in the eye. “Ouch!” he muttered as he grabbed the jangling phone. “Hello?” He shook the sleep from his head. “Hello? Is anybody there? Hello?”

“Mr. C-Cramer?”

“Yes. Who is this? What do you want?” Cramer picked up his alarm clock. “3 a.m.! Who is this?!”

“Y-your personal physician?”

“My-- What?! My personal-- Miss Harnett?! Is that you?!”

“Y-yes.”

“What do you mean by calling at this hour?! Are you drunk?!”

“Yes. No. Well, I was. Oh, Mr. Cramer--”

He heard a sob catch in her throat, and he frowned. “Let’s be calm, Miss Harnett. Tell me exactly what’s wrong.”

“I’ve been in an accident and the old couple here can’t help me. Craig’s already left Woodstock, and I thought you could help me.”

“Are you by yourself?”

“No, Brian’s with me.”

“Why doesn’t he do something?”

“Because he’s still in the car, unconscious.”

“Is he injured?! Do you need an ambulance?”

“I don’t think so. Please. Hurry!”

“Where are you exactly?”

“It’s that farm with the round barn right where Highway 25 takes that big turn to the east.”

“I know where it is. I’ll be right there. Stay calm. Keep hold of yourself. And don’t talk to those people!”

Cramer threw on jeans and a sweatshirt and his father’s old hunting jacket. He rushed down the hall, but at Paul’s room, the door opened.

“What’s up, Bob?”

“Shh! You’ll wait up Mother.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“If I know you, that means something. Maybe I can help.”

“It’s two of my teachers. They’ve had an accident.”

“Who? Look, Bob, I won’t talk. Let me help.”

“It’s Brian Landis and Jean Harnett.”

“Jean? Was she hurt?”

“I don’t think so, but she’s scared. I’ve got to get to them.”

“Give me a minute and I’ll get dressed.”

“I’ll write a note for Mother and meet you outside.”

Half an hour later Cramer pulled his car off Highway 25 and parked beside a battered cream station wagon.

The Cramers jumped out just as Jean appeared in the headlights. Her carefully set hair was now disheveled and her beautiful dancing dress was spattered with mud.

Paul caught her in his arms. “Hey, slow down! Why, you’re shaking with cold! Where’s your coat?”

“I, I don’t know,” she said looking around. “I think I left it in Springfield.”

“Here. Take this.” Robert Cramer shucked the hunting jacket and draped it around Jean’s shaking shoulders. “Where’s Mr. Landis?”

Jean huddled into the warmth of the coat, and Paul pulled his arms around her again. “A-Across the front seat.”

The three walked thought the semi-frozen mud.

“Looks like he tried to bury the car,” Paul remarked.

“I-It started sliding. It seemed the most natural thing to do. It was like riding a roller coaster.”

Robert Cramer opened the car door and stuck his head inside where Brian Landis lay in a slumped heap.

“How is he, Bob?” Paul called.

“No blood. No bumps. No bruises.” He leaned closer, then pulled away quickly. “He’s not unconscious, Paul,” he said in an icy voice. “He’s stone-cold drunk!”

“Take it easy, little brother. You’ve seen a drunk before.”

Cramer straightened outside the car. “But not when it was one of my faculty. Miss Harnett--”

“I knew. But I couldn’t say that over the phone. That farmer was listening.”

“Come on, Bob, we can talk this over later. Right now, we have to get these two back to Woodstock.”

Cramer was intently studying the situation. “Hmm. Car’s stuck in this soft shoulder. We’ll have to push it out. Paul, give me a hand and we’ll put Landis in the back seat. I don’t want him rattling around when the car’s in motion. He might grab for the wheel.”

After a considerable struggle, the Cramers managed to haul the limber Brian in back.

“Now, we’ll try to get this car out.”

“Bob, it’ll take both of us to push. Maybe we can get the old farmer to drive.”

“I don’t want him to witness more than he needs to see.” Robert Cramer chewed his lip in thought. “I hate to ask this, Miss Harnett, but do you think that you could--”

“Now, wait a minute, Bob! She’s too shaken up to--”

She touched his arm. “He’s right, Paul. Let’s not get strangers involved. And there’s always the chance that Mr. White will recognize you two.”

“All right. But are you sure you’re up to doing this, Jean?”

She nodded silently.

Jean put the or into reverse, and the Cramers heaved their combined weight against the right front bumper. In the glaring headlights, the men looked like two grotesques from a surrealistic nightmare. Then the car wheels spun and Jean heard a low muttering.

“Now, now, Bob. Mustn’t let Miss Harnett know you’re capable of that sort of language. So you got a little mud on your clothes. They’ll wash. So will you.”

“Oh, dear,’ Jean mumbled to herself.

“You were standing in the wrong spot, Bob, so just stop whining about it! No, I am not laughing. Now, how can anyone hear a grin? All right, Jean! Once more! I think he’s had enough time to rest. No, Bob, I am not laughing at your expense. How would I have the strength to push if I was laughing at the mud ball beside me?”

Even Jean could hear the laughter in Paul’s voice. “Oh, dear,” she mumbled again as she saw the men lower their heads to their tasks. She stepped on the gas.

The tires spun and, this time, caught. The car roared backward and Jean had to fight the wheel to stop from hitting Cramer’s Ford. Cramer must’ve thought she’d hit his car, too, the way he yelled and leaped. Then he dropped, literally, from view as he lost his balance and fell to his knees in the icy mud.

Jean opened the car door and saw Paul pulling Cramer to his feet.

“Do I have to spend my whole life picking you up, Bob? You were better tempered about it when you were a toddler.”

“That was back when I thought my brother had some sense,” Cramer spat out and mumbled something else that Jean couldn’t quite hear.

“Now, now, Bob. There’s a lady present. Hey, Jean, that was pretty good driving! I’m sure that Bob agrees, despite his grumbling. You didn‘t hit his car.”

“Thanks, Paul.” In the background she could hear Robert Cramer slapping the mud off his clothing. Jean frowned and chewed on her lower lip.

“Hey, Bob!” Paul called as he held the door open for Jean. “You deliver our friend here in the back seat, and I’ll drive Jean home.”

Jean crawled out and Robert Cramer brushed past her and silently took her place behind the wheel of Brian’s car. Cramer glared up at them with eyes crackling with anger and mouth set in one grim line.

“See you at home!” Paul called as he took Jean’s arm. “Drive carefully!” he said with a big smile.

Cramer looked grimmer, if that was possible, put the car in gear, and shot down the road.

“Oh, dear, he’s mad,” Jean said as Paul led her back to the Ford.

“He’s been mad before. He’ll get over it.”

Paul started the Ford and they cruised down the highway. Not far in the distance, they could see the tail lights of Brian’s station wagon.

“What time is it?”

Paul checked his wristwatch. “Quarter to four.”

“We’ll get back to Woodstock about quarter after four. Oh, dear, what shall I do? Old Mrs. Braun across the street never sleeps, and she’s always watching Zoe and me. She’ll really have a field day when she sees me coming in at that time.”

“And in my brother’s car, too.”

“Oh, that’s right! He’ll have a fit!”

“Never worry yourself about it. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Meanwhile, let’s see what’s on the radio.”

Hillbilly music flooded the car and then rock-and-rock as Paul turned the dial. Finally, Paul found some lively music that was popular.

“Irene, good night--” sang the radio.

“Goodnight, Irene,” Paul. “Goodnight-- Come on, Jean. Join in.”

“I’ll see you in my dreams,” they both sang. “Last Saturday night, I got married--”  
Paul soon turned off the radio and said, “Tell me about yourself, Jean.”

Jean was soon laughing and feeling very happy until the Woodstock city limits reminded her of Mrs. Braun and her window peeking. “Paul, I think we’ve come to that bridge.”

“So we have.” He turned down a street that was not Jean’s.

“Where are we going?”

“A detour.” He turned down another street. “Oh, good. She’s up,” he muttered as he pulled in the back of his mother’s house. There was a light in the kitchen window. “Come on.”

“But--”

“Come on,” he urged. “It’s okay.”

Reluctantly, she followed Cramer through the shadows. He held the back door open for her and followed her into the cheerful yellow kitchen. After the darkness of the last few hours, Jean blinked in the brightness of the room.

A stately woman in a long robe turned to the sounds of their entering. Long gray hair, accustomed to lying in a bun, streamed down her back. Her queenly eyes studied them in a steady blue glow. Jean recognized Alida Cramer. She was as elegant as ever.

“Mother, this is Jean Harnett.”

“We’ve met, Paul.” Those queenly eyes settled on Jean, and Jean squirmed under their quiet scrutiny. “Won’t you sit down, Miss Harnett?”

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Paul continued, as he seated Jean at the table.

“Now, how could I sleep with you boys tearing around the countryside?”

Paul broke into a grin that told how much he was enjoying himself. “It seems like old times, doesn’t it? The Cramer Brothers in action again.”

Alida smiled gently. “I know. Bob’s been missing that, even if he wouldn’t admit it.”

Jean was surprised to hear no antagonism in Mrs. Cramer’s voice. In fact, she almost seemed to be enjoying herself. Jean always figured that she was aloof and cold, because she always appeared to be so sophisticated.

“That coffee sure smells great, Mother.”

For the first time, Mrs. Cramer moved. “Get some cups, Paul, and let’s make Miss Harnett comfortable.” She sat in the chair beside Jean and took hold of Jean’s cold hand, an action which greatly surprised Jean. “You’ve had a most unfortunate accident, my dear. I hope you weren’t injured.”

“No. No, not at all, thank you.”

Mrs. Cramer poured the boiling coffee, and Jean watched the rich liquid swirling into the cup. “Cream or sugar, Miss Harnett?”

“Neither. I like it black.”

“So do I. It’s the only way to drink coffee. But Paul there puts three lumps of sugar in his.”

Jean wrinkled her nose at the thought of the sugary mess. “Ugh!”

Paul grinned and winked. “Coffee snobs! The both of you!” He sipped his coffee. “Great drink! But Bob’s the best, Jean. He colors milk slightly with coffee.”

Jean frowned at the thought of that mixture.

“That’s because their father used to fix coffee that way for the boys,” Alida explained. “Bob has never liked it any other way. By the way, son, where is your brother?”

“Bob? Oh, he’s delivering the other teacher.”

“I see. Well, he should be back directly. Miss Harnett, perhaps you would like to freshen up a bit.”

‘Yes, I’d appreciate that, Mrs. Cramer.” Suddenly, she looked at the hunting coat draped around her shoulders. “Oh, dear, he’s out there without a coat. And it’s freezing.”

“Perhaps you’d better go after him, Paul.”

“Yes, Mother. Jean, where does Landis live?”

“With Mandy Harris.”

“Got you. Mother, Jean has got a problem with a nosy neighbor. Sadie Braun. You know, the one that never sleeps?”

“In that case, I think Miss Harnett should spend the rest of the night here.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t! I just can’t! It would put you out so much.”

“Nonsense! I’ll loan you a nighty and you can have Jerry’s room.”

“Who?”

“Jerry. My third son. You won’t be putting him out one bit. He isn’t expected home from college for a couple of days.”

“But--”

“It’s settled, my dear. Come along, now,” she gently urged.

“I’d better go get Bob,” Paul said, walking toward the door as his mother led Jean away. “He’s probably fit to be tied.”

At that moment the backdoor flew open, and Robert Cramer stomped inside the kitchen. He glared at all of them. “Where did you go to, Paul?! I thought you were right behind me! I just walked four blocks and it isn’t exactly springtime out there!”

“Now, Bob.” He extended his hand with his coffee cup in it. “Here. Drink this.”

“Forget that witch’s brew that you call coffee!” Bob pointed outside. “You go out there in a sweatshirt and jeans wet with mud and walk four blocks!”

“Come along, Miss Harnett. This is no place for ladies.”

Paul reached for a cup in the cabinet. “I’ll fix you some coffee just the way you like it. Sit down.”

“Sit down?! Perhaps you’d like me to turn my back so you can stab me again!”

“Don’t carry on so, Bob. I didn’t forget you on purpose.”

“What else would you call it if it wasn’t on purpose?!”

The kitchen door swung shut on them. Alida Cramer led Jean upstairs and into a cozy bedroom.

“This is nice,” Jean said, looking at the fishing gear and baseball equipment. “I can certainly see what your son’s interests are.”

“Yes, Jerry does like his sports. He’s a junior at State College this fall.”

The sound of Cramer’s voice echoed upstairs.

“Oh, dear, he’s awfully angry,” Jean said, as she chewed her lip.

“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Cramer answered brusquely. “Paul will charm him out of it soon. Bob adores his older brother. I think he also envies Paul’s ability to get along with people.”

“He isn’t this animated at school.”

“Bob’s got a quick temper, just like his father had. Paul has a theory about that. He thinks Bob never loses his temper except around those he loves. If Paul can only find a girl for Bob to get mad at, really mad at, he will have found Bob a wife. But I’m going on so. It’s so nice to have another woman in the house to talk to. But you’re tired, and I must let you get some rest. I’ll fetch a nighty for you.”

“Mrs. Cramer. Wait.”

The older woman looked back, expectantly. “Yes?”

Jean looked at her hands. “I don’t know if you knew, but Brian and I were drinking tonight. That’s why we went into the ditch. So, maybe you don’t want me to stay now--” Her voice trailed off.

Mrs. Cramer touched Jean’s shoulder and Jean looked into her warm, motherly blue eyes. “I guessed all that before I saw you, my dear. I don’t hold that against you. If my two boys think you’re worth helping, then you must be pretty special. And, after what I’ve seen of you in the last few minutes, I think they’re right. You aren’t a bad person, just a victim of an unfortunate incident. Besides, I remember how you helped Bob when he was ill.”

Jean felt tears glistening in her eyes. “Oh, you’re a beautiful person, Mrs. Cramer. Both inside and out.”

“If you need anything, my dear, my door’s on the left,” Mrs. Cramer said crisply as she turned the covers back. “On the right is the bathroom.” She patted Jean’s shoulder. “You just get some rest now.” She quietly shut the door behind her.

Jean slipped into the nighty and flipped off the light switch. The sheets felt soft and comforting after the harassing night. After so much stress, this room was a haven. 

So that was Alida Cramer. She wasn’t at all the old troll that Jean had always heard about. Instead of being unapproachable, Mrs. Cramer was a very human person. Jean liked her. And she liked her son, too. 

Paul, that is.

As for the other son--

Jean sighed.

The other son was fit to be tied and there would be all hell to pay before this night’s work was redeemed. Jean managed a grin that she couldn’t afford, considering the dire circumstances she was in with her immediate superior, but the evening’s events could almost be funny and would get funnier with the passage of time. Even Cramer might someday laugh about it.

But he would’ve really ground his teeth together if he’d heard that string of clichés she’d just thought. This was more a personal situation they were in, not a professional one. But it still involved her conduct. She knew he was angry with her, but she had no idea if he was disappointed in her. Somehow, that might hurt worse than his anger.

Jean was much too exhausted to think any further. She turned on her side in the bed belonging to the third Cramer brother she’d never met and wondered idly what Jerry was like. His pictures in the living room showed a younger version of Paul with a pleasant, open grin. She bet he was just as nice as Paul, too, and not like SOME of his relatives she could mention.

She yawned and scrunched down into the welcoming bedding. She hoped Brian was okay and had no doubt that Cramer had taken good care of him. She hadn’t heard Cramer yelling for a long time now. His family must’ve finally gotten him calmed down. Tomorrow, she would have to face him and his wrath. But, as Scarlett O’Hara would say, tomorrow was another day.

She sighed and drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face. Nothing ever got Jean down for very long. Not even a surly principal.

 

Jean awoke with the sensation that it was very, very late. Today, she was going home for Christmas vacation. How happy that thought made her!

She rolled over, opened her eyes, and sat upright. Fishing tackle? Baseball bats? What man’s room was she in?!

Then she remembered. Last night at the school dance. And that horrible drinking bout in the wee hours of this morning.

Jean got out of bed and slipped into the robe that Mrs. Cramer had left for her. Then she saw the suitcase. Her suitcase. She opened it and found her clothes all freshly packed. Shaking her head in bewilderment, she pulled on her red skirt and sweater.

Jean eventually descended the open stairway and found herself in the spacious, colonial living room. In front of the window facing the street stood an immense Christmas tree, its branches glistening in the early morning light. An array of unlit lights and homemade ornaments highlighted by silver garland spoke of Christmas memories. A clock quietly ticked away the minutes. Family photos stood on the open piano in the corner. It was a very homey room where one immediately felt comfortable.

All was the same as she remembered from last night except for one startling addition. Sprawled all over the sofa was a sleeping Robert Cramer, now clad in a clean sweatshirt and jeans, his arms flung over his face. On the floor where he’d tossed them lay his horn-rimmed glasses.

Jean slipped across the room, retrieved the glasses, and placed them on the cocktail table. Her arm brushed his as she straightened.

Cramer moaned and stirred, and Jean froze, afraid she’d disturbed his slumbers. She tiptoed several paces away before she dared to look back at him again. In stirring, he’d flung his arms back above his head, revealing his tired face. Even asleep, he wore a serious, perplexed look as though his mind was greatly troubled. His hands rested, palms upward, and she watched his fingers tremble in spasm. He must be exhausted, she thought. He hadn’t surrendered easily to sleep and even now tried to fight it.

But he looked so vulnerable lying there, like he needed someone to protect him. He had always seemed so untouched by the world, so above the life of ordinary people. Jean had never seen him with his guard down like this, and it stirred deep feelings within her that she could only identify as maternal. But beyond that, his vulnerability made him oddly appealing to her. He’d never seemed quite human to her before, as if he didn’t have any identify out of the school building. She didn’t know this person. She couldn’t quit studying him. This was like a new novelty to her to ponder. 

Cramer looked almost approachable this way. She suspected that he was a very private person who worked to keep a barrier between himself and others, even members of his own family. Who knew why he didn’t trust others with his feelings, but right now he seemed like someone who needed a friend. Jean was willing to be his friend, but would he allow it? Would the familiar barrier be back in place when he awoke?

It struck her that it must be very difficult to love him. How would someone know if tender sentiments were returned? Would he ever acknowledge them, even to himself?

“He finally gave in, thank goodness,” his mother muttered at Jean’s side, then noted Jean’s alarm and drew her away from the sofa. “I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear. Are you all right? You look so pale. Maybe you’re still shaken from your misadventures last night. Do you want to sit down?”

Jean shook her head. “I’m all right.” She nodded at Cramer. “I’m worried about him. He looks so tired.”

Alida gave Jean a thoughtful look. “You try to be his friend, don’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose I do.” Mrs. Cramer didn’t know her well enough to understand that Jean adopted anything she thought was in need of help, whether it wanted adopting or not.

“You needn’t worry. He’ll be okay. He just needs to rest. I appreciate your concern.”

“I didn’t mean to jump like that just now. It seemed so hushed in here, like being in a church. Then, when you said something, I was afraid he’d awaken. I don’t want to disturb him. Somehow it’d be almost sacrilegious. I feel like a trespasser or even a voyeur, like I’m spying on something I really shouldn’t be seeing.”

Alida patted her hand. “That’s because you’re seeing Bob in a way you’re not used to seeing him. Let me assure you, my dear, it’s just my son taking a well deserved nap. He’s doing something very human. I suppose he doesn’t let his colleagues see this side of him, and that’s why you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

Jean gave Alida a quick, self-conscious smile. She felt a little foolish about putting a connotation to the scene that it really didn’t deserve.

They both looked at the sleeping man, and Jean felt more at ease.

“Poor boy,” Alida said. “He worked so hard getting your car. He insisted he wasn’t sleepy, but when I returned with his coffee-milk, I found him like this.”

“What did he have to do with my car? And how did I get my clothes?”

“Come into the kitchen and have some breakfast while I explain.” 

Mrs. Cramer put bread in the toaster and cracked eggs into a skillet. “It was Bob finding your coat in the back seat of Landis’s car that started it. You didn’t leave it in Springfield, after all.“

“Oh, thank goodness! That was a present from my parents!“

“It’s a nice dress coat, and we assumed that it also had sentimental value. Anyway, Bob and Paul were determined to find a way to get you in and out of your apartment unseen, so my sons figured out a way. It was so wonderful having them working on something together again. I would have been delighted if they’d been planning anything, even a bank robbery.”

Jean blinked as she buttered a slice of toast.

“I suppose I shouldn’t sound so bizarre, but my boys have gone their separate ways the last few years. Your dilemma gave them something they could do together.”

“Whatever did they do?” Jean asked, with the growing suspicion that she’d slept through a great drama.

“At 5 a.m. Bob cut through the back alleys and finally got into your apartment without scaring your roommate too much or getting bitten by the Ferguson’s Doberman.”

“Ohhh. That dog can be dangerous.”

“He was just guarding his master’s possessions.“

“He was just doing his doggy duty, I suppose.“

“That’s right. I would’ve barked at Bob myself the way he must have been slinking through the early morning shadows like a petty thief.”

Jean realized that Mrs. Cramer had been having fun, too. Her sparkling eyes said so. “Bob had your roommate pack a suitcase for you. Then, he sneaked me in the back door without Mrs. Doubleday hearing. Zoe helped me with your family’s Christmas presents. About 8 a.m. I put on your coat, picked up your suitcase, and walked out to your car. I even waved to Mrs. Doubleday. Thank Heavens, she’s near-sighted! Then I drove your car down to Fredericksburg, and the boys picked me up.” She smiled, actually smiled, with the pleasure of what she had done.

Jean’s eyes filled with tears. “You did this for me? Why?”

“Because Bob asked us, and because we wanted to help.”

“It’s the nicest Christmas present I’ve ever gotten. You’re all wonderful people.”

“Never mind that now,” Mrs. Cramer said crisply. “Finish your eggs before they get cold.”

“Mrs. Cramer, I don’t want you and your sons to think I make a regular practice of drinking. Brian and I were blue last night, that’s all. But you’ve got to believe me, Mrs. Cramer, we don’t normally drink.”

“I know, my dear,” Alida answered more gently, patting Jean’s hand. “Bob told us that this was very unusual behavior for both of you, despite Landis‘ reputation.”

“I, I don’t know what was wrong with both of us last night.”

“Christmas sometimes makes us blue.” She lifted her head to the sound of the front door opening. “Here’s Paul now. Come on.” 

She and Jean walked into the cozy living room.

Paul’s cheeks were red with the cold and his blue eyes sparkled as he looked at Jean. “Hey, how’s our guest? Okay, I see. In fact, great. Do you know how wonderful you look in red? An appropriate Christmas color, by the way.”

Jean returned the smile and nodded her head. “Thank you, kind sir, I do now. And thank you for all you did for me while I slept.”

“Glad we could help. Speaking of Bob, where did he get to?” Then he spied Bob on the couch. “Is he STILL asleep?! Hey, Jean, want to see him wake up quick?”

“Don’t, Paul!” she said as she grabbed his passing arm, then released it when Paul looked at her quizzically. “I mean, he deserves his rest.”

“Okay, princess, whatever you say,” Paul said as he continued to eye her oddly. “But it would’ve been great. You won’t believe the speed that’s in him when he‘s startled.” He frowned slightly. “Are you sure? It‘s really great.”

She nodded quickly.

“Well, I won’t bother him then.” He saw her suitcase by the door. “Ready to go? I’ll take you down to Fredericksburg now if you want.”

Jean nodded, then went to the kitchen where she’d left her handbag.

“What’s wrong with her?” Paul asked at his mother’s elbow. “I wasn’t going to hurt him. I ask you, Mother, have I ever hurt my little brother?”

“Not intentionally.” Alida sighed. “Not lately.”

Paul shrugged.

“I believe she feels a little ill at ease here, Paul.”

“But we--”

“Not because of you and me, my dear, but Bob. He’s her administrator. She’s hoping to avoid his wrath until after Christmas. Then maybe he won’t talk so sharply.”

Paul nodded wisely. “I see. I don’t blame her.”

Mrs. Cramer softly punched his arm. “Paul Allen Cramer! You’re doing nothing to help his reputation.”

Just then, Jean returned, and she and Paul busied themselves with their wraps.

“All ready?” Paul asked as they headed for the front door.

“I think so,” Jean replied as she mentally took inventory, then turned to Mrs. Cramer. “I want to thank you for all that you’ve done--”

“Hey, Mother!” Paul cried. “Look where Jean’s standing! Under the mistletoe!”

Jean barely had time to glance up before Paul grabbed her and kissed her soundly on the mouth. She enjoyed the friendly kiss and reached up to touch Paul’s face. Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, and they grinned at each other.

“Forgive me,” Paul said with dancing eyes that said he wasn’t the least bit sorry for what he’d done. “I thought I saw mistletoe hanging over the door.”

Jean’s grin deepened. “Funny, I thought I did, too.”

With a hoot of laughter, Paul pulled her into his arms and whirled her. “Oh, Miss Jean Harnett, I like you! You’re a treasure!”

She laughed with joy. Paul set her down, and they looked at each other with flushed faces.

“You’re not so bad yourself, fly boy.” 

Suddenly she stiffened. Something was terribly wrong. The room had noticeably chilled. Jean felt disapproving eyes and turned to see Robert Cramer glaring at them from the couch.

Paul put his arm around Jean again. “What are you scowling at, Bob?” he demanded. “From what I hear, you got your kiss last night. I got mine today.”

Jean, horror stricken, opened her mouth to say something, but Paul propelled her through the front door.

“Oh, Paul, I have to explain to him!” she said outside. “He thinks I’m brazen already, and this will only prove it!”

Frosty air puffed around Paul’s face from his breath. “What can you say? I found out a long time ago he’s going to believe whatever he wants. Now, let’s forget about him and enjoy the ride. It’s a beautiful day!”

Jean breathed in the crisp air. “Yes, it is! Come on, let’s run to the car!”

Inside the Cramer home, Mrs. Cramer was watching her middle son with amusement on her face.

“So you got into the Christmas spirit last night, did you?”

“It wasn’t Miss Harnett who kissed me,” Cramer said as he straightened the sofa pillows. “It was the art teacher, Miss Bergetti. I think that’s what startled this whole sorry mess.”

“Why don’t you grab your coat and go with them? There’s still time to catch them. Then you and Paul could visit on the way home.”

Cramer studied the door for a moment, considering. Then he headed for the stairway. “Let him play Sir Galahad if he wishes. I’ve got other things to do.”

“So,” Alida said gently, “must I remind you that you played Sir Galahad earlier to Miss Harnett?”

Cramer paused on the stairs. “She’s just one of my teachers, Mother. I’d do the same for any of the others on my staff.”

She sighed as she watched him climb the stairs. Knowing him, he was probably right.

 

Brian Landis shuffled listlessly around his apartment that was shrouded in semi-darkness. He couldn’t bear to pull the shades up. From the light that was seeping around the edges of the window, it looked like a bright, sun shiny day. He was not in the mood for a bright, sun shiny day. It reminded him too much of Jean Harnett and of last night and of whatever had happened, whatever that was.

He could not remember arriving at his apartment. He could not remember how he’d gotten his shoes off or into bed. Sometimes he amazed himself with his ability. He must’ve been on auto-pilot.

The telephone rang shrilly and Brian grimaced. His head felt like it had split open with the brazen sound. He groaned as he shuffled across the floor to answer the call. Hopefully, the person would give up and leave Brian to his misery, but no such luck. The phone kept ringing.

“’Lo?” he managed to mumble.

“What did you do to Jean last night?!” Zoe demanded.

“Not much, Flame Hair,” he answered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. She sounded well rested. Must be wonderful. “I don’t remember much about last night.”

“That makes you the lucky one.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You should be on this end,” he mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“If I was over there, I’d kill you!”

“The way I feel, I’d let you. It’d be a definite improvement. I think someone’s already taken a crack at me and hit dead center.”

“Will you snap out of it and talk seriously?!”

“This is as good as it gets today,” he said, squinting his eyes closed. That window had a definite glare to it. “What do you know about Jean?”

“I haven’t seen Jean, but I know she’s okay. Bob Cramer showed up here in the wee hours and about scared me silly before he explained how he and his brother had rescued you and Jean. Then his mother came in, got dressed up like Jean, and drove Jean’s car out of town. Paul Cramer was hovering around in the background, getting a large charge out of the whole circus and delivering one liners like a comedian.”

“What ARE you babbling about? What the hell have you been drinking?” Brian asked with his eyes fully open. “It must’ve been worse than what I gulped down. By the way, what’s a good cure for a hangover?”

“How would I know?!” Zoe slammed the receiver.

Brian groaned, shuffled to the refrigerator, and decided his stomach would rebel at the very thought of food.

The telephone blasted again and he shuffled toward it, wincing with every step.

“Yeah?”

“Mix a raw egg with Worcestershire and drink it.”

“That’d make me puke!”

“Either way, you’d feel better.”

“Were you telling me the truth about Cramer?”

“God’s gospel.”

“Why were he and his family doing all that?”

“To save Jean’s reputation. Which you weren’t helping, by the way.”

“I don’t think I was in any position to help anybody, least of all myself. I don’t even know how I got to bed.”

“That’s easy. Bob Cramer put you there.”

“Eh?”

“From what I surmised by the general discussion, you were pretty mellow and limber by the time he got you back to Woodstock. There was even something about your wanting him to sing a duet with you as he dragged you into your house.”

Brian snapped to attention. “Holy-- I’ll never be able to face the guy again! I guess Jean and I are really in trouble. I’ll just tell Cramer it was all my fault.”

“You can’t. I already told him I started the mess in the cloak room. And I imagine Jean will spill her guts to him and confess the whole crime was her fault.”

“Hang together, or we’ll all hang separately?”

“Something like that. Look, we were all to fault, but I don’t think Cramer’s going to chew us out. He probably thinks we’re doing enough soul searching on our own.”

“So where was Jean while the Cramer family was playing hide and seek with you?”

“From what I could gather, she was asleep back at the Cramer house.”

“Holy-- This gets better all the time. How did she get there?”

“I guess the Cramer brothers adopted her and took her home to Mama Cramer.”

“Jean leads a charmed life,” Brian mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Wish she’d pass some of that luck around. I guess I’m out of shape anymore for serious drinking.”

“Listen, are you going to be okay? You don’t sound so good.”

“Didn’t you know, Red?” he said as he smiled wistfully. “I’m a survivor.”

“Yeah, you look like you’ve survived a thousand battles, all right. Just barely.”

Brian rubbed a hand over his rubbery face. “Right now I feel like there’s a battle raging in my skull.”

“Want me to come over and fix you something to eat? Something soothing? Like cooked cereal or poached eggs? Instead of what you really deserve, which would have a lot of hot sauce in it?”

Brian put his hand down and shook his head, trying to focus his eyes. Had he heard her right? Was she being nice to him?

“No, that’s okay,” he mumbled. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

“I have to be honest. It’s for my sake, not yours. It’s my way of eating humble pie. I should’ve never started that mess last night.”

“Red, we just agreed that it was everyone’s fault. And that means not just yours. So stop torturing yourself.”

“I can’t. You and Jean could’ve gotten hurt, or worse. I don’t have many people in this world. I can’t lose anymore.”

“Zoe, Jean and I are okay.”

“But you might not have been. We’re going to have to stop our feud. It’s getting out of hand.”

“Let’s not get drastic. What’s getting out of hand is Jean. You know what she’s been trying to do, don’t you? With us?”

“She cares about us, Brian. We’ve got her attention. That’s why we have to stop, so she will stop interfering. Then she‘ll move on to something else, and leave us alone.”

“I don’t think I can stop feuding with you. It’s my one form of recreation, Red. You keep me on my toes.”

“I agree. Woodstock would be awfully dull. I’ve got it! Maybe we can be clandestine feuders.”

Brian laughed.

“What was that, Landis? A laugh? I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I didn’t, either. Let’s give this a rest until after the holidays, okay? I think we’re all been needing a breather.”

“You’re right.”

“Listen, you have a Merry Christmas now, you hear?”

“Yeah, same to you.”

“And, Zoe. Be kind to yourself. Let that be your Christmas present to yourself.”

“Don’t go overboard with this truce thing, Landis.”

“Truce?! Who said anything about a truce?! We’ll just do our fighting when Jean’s not around.”

“Thanks, Brian. That’s the best present you could’ve given me.” Her voice sounded different. It was full of warmth.

Brian didn’t know if he liked the personal touch he could hear. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’m a cheap skate, all right. It cost me nothing.”

“Don’t argue with me. It cost you a lot.”

“Zoe, don’t let this Christmas thing get you down.”

“Why should I admit anything like that to you?”

“Because I understand. The others can’t. All we’ve got is each other on this one, Red. They can’t understand how alone we are. They‘ve all got go much that we don‘t have. Prospects. Family. Hell, even youth.” The conversation was hitting too close to home and getting way too serious. “Look, I better get off the phone and let you get back to your holiday plans. See you after the first.”

“Yeah. You, too. Bye.”

Zoe cradled the phone and frowned. What holiday plans? Her uncle was expecting her, and she had nobody else. Jean was on her way to Canton and her family. Craig had so many brothers and sisters, it was a wonder he didn’t get lost in the herd. Even Cramer had family arriving. All he had to do was sit back and wait for them. Besides, he was probably related to half of the people in Woodstock. He’d be the last person who’d be lonesome. Even Landis had relatives back in Nebraska that he could visit.

Zoe grabbed her coat. Other people’s plans for Christmas only pointed out to her how alone she was. She had to get out of Woodstock and escape into oblivion.

Brian slumped in an overstuffed chair and stared at the wall. What in the hell was he going to do over the holidays? His Nebraska family wasn’t expecting him. They knew never to look for him until he crossed their threshold.

The phone rang again and he pulled himself out of his chair with a mighty groan and heaved himself across the room. ATT should be able to declare quite a profit from his business alone today.

“What do you want now, woman?!”

“I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas, Brian,” a frail, little voice answered him.

“Oh. Hi, Aunt Sophie.” Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thanks. And the same to you and Uncle Fred. How are things outside Omaha?”

“Cold. Snowy.“ She paused. “Did I disturb you, dear?” she asked with hesitation in her voice. “You don’t sound too well.”

“No. That’s okay. Just too much partying last night. I shouldn’t have answered like an old bear awakened halfway through his winter’s hibernation. I thought you were somebody else. A joker I know. Someone who loves to yank my chain just to hear me yell. She’s a royal pain in the you-know-what.” Something wasn’t sounding right. He shouldn’t be talking about Zoe this way. She deserved better. Feuding with her was one thing, but he shouldn’t demean her to other people. He cleared his bleary eyes. “No,” he said slowly as he finally accepted the truth. “She’s a friend of mine. A good friend. One of the few I’ve got.” He frowned. “And I should treat her better, shouldn’t I?”

“We should always be kind to our friends, dear.”

“And our family. I should appreciate you more.”

“Ah, whatever you say, dear. And thank you. That is always nice to hear.“

“Well, I should say it more often. Mother would trounce me royally if she knew I’d snapped at her baby sister.“

“That’s all right, dear. The other reason I called is to invite you out here for Christmas. Do you think you could make it? For at least part of the holiday? I know I’m a little late in asking, but I think that family should get together at this time of the year, don’t you? Sam and Janet are coming in from Grand Island. You haven’t gotten to see their twins yet, and they are growing like weeds.”

“No, I haven’t.” A long forgotten mellowness filled Brian. “I might be able to do that, Aunt Sophie. Maybe not today, though. I’m a little under the weather.”

“Whenever you can, dear. You’re always welcome.”

“Thanks, Aunt Sophie. The invitation alone means a lot.”

As Brian hung up, he decided that Aunt Sophie must be a tough old bird. But then she had to be one after all those years as a Nebraska farmwife. Right now, though, Brian couldn’t think of Aunt Sophie or anyone else. He had to recuperate.

 

Brian dropped into his easy chair with a sigh, retreated into his own personal Hell, and found much contentment there. Let someone else worry about Zoe Bergetti and the other misfits of the world. He needed more sleep.

Later, Brian tried to call Zoe to invite her to dinner. The phone rang and rang. Brian hung up and stared at the shadowy wall. Where in the hell was she?

It was Christmas Eve, and Zoe should not be alone. Brian grabbed his coat and headed for the door. He had to find her.

 

“What’s wrong, Jean?” her father asked. “Missing Brenna?”

“I guess.” She and her father were watching ice skating on Wide World of Sports on television, and her mother was lying down for a well deserved nap. The Christmas hustle was over days ago, and the blahs had set in as everyone waited for New Year‘s Eve festivities. “I’m glad she’s meeting Craig’s family, though.”

“I think they’re falling for each other.”

“Well, sure, Daddy. That’s why I introduced them.”

“But this will be different. You girls were always falling in and out of love in high school. But Brenna’s older now. She’s ready to settle down.”

“Great! They’ll get married and in a few years, I’ll be an aunt.”

“But you’ll also be alone. You’ve been very close to your sister, Jean. You’ll miss her tremendously.”

Maybe that had been her problem all week. She couldn’t seem to settle down. She felt that great changes were coming with the new year and intuited that the changes dealt with more than Brenna.

Often, she caught herself thinking of Woodstock and wishing she was there. She was moody and didn’t know why.

 

She and her sometimes flame Ronnie attended a New Year’s Eve party. Being with old childhood and school friends again and the noise of the party helped, but Jean caught herself more than once staring at her drink.

Even in the middle of conversations with dear friends, Jean found her attention wandering. Was Zoe spending a lonely New Year’s Eve somewhere, and where? Did Brian hunt up his family near Omaha, or was he spending a solitary New Year’s somewhere, too? Was the party at the Woodstock Lions’ Club the success that she heard it generally was, or had a lot of local people opted to watch the New Year come in with Guy Lombardo? Was the Cramer family at the Lions’ Club party?

Or was Paul Cramer seeing Elise Ott in a more intimate setting?

“Hmmm? What did you say, Paula?”

“I swear, Jean, your mind’s a million miles away tonight.”

No, only about eighty, Jean thought as she turned without a further word and walked away from a girl she’d known since second grade.

What would the New Year bring for all of them? Surely, marriage for Brenna and Craig. But what for her, Jean Louise Harnett? Adventure? Travel? 

Romance?!

With a thud to her heart, Jean realized that she, too, could be engaged or even married before another New Year’s Eve rolled around. But to whom? To whom?

If only HE would make himself known! She‘d really like to meet him!

But she had the gnawing suspicion that she already had.


	5. January

At midnight, Ronnie found Jean and amid the noisy celebrates gave her a New Year’s kiss. But Jean moved her head and the kiss landed off-center.

Ronnie looked hurt. “Let’s go, Jean.”

Silently, they threaded their way through the well-wishers, and Jean turned up her coat collar against a rising icy wind as they stepped outside.

In Ronnie’s Thunderbird they drove quietly through the twinkling streets. Various houses along the way were alit with parties.

Ronnie stopped in front of the Harnett house. “Looks like your folks are still up.”

“They’re watching Guy Lombardo this year, instead of going out to the Country Club. Mom’s coming down with a cold, so they decided to stay home.”

Ronnie sighed. “Well, Jean, I guess this is goodbye.”

She stared at him. “Goodbye?!”

“I love you, Jean, but I can’t fight against him.”

“Him? Who him? I mean--”

“The guy you’re in love with. Your mind hasn’t been in Canton all week. I figure it’s some guy you know back in Woodstock.”

She started to protest, but he continued.

“Anyway, I knew it couldn’t last between us with me here and you nearly a hundred miles away. I should have known the truth about our relationship when you wouldn’t teach in your home town.”

“I just wanted to live in a different place, meet new people, see if I could succeed where no one knew me. I always meant to come back.”

“See? You even talk about Canton in the past tense.”

“I mean, I’ll come back--”

He squeezed her hand and smiled bitterly. “No, you won’t, sweetheart. You already belong there more than here.”

“Then it’s the whole town I miss, not just one man.”

“No, it’s got to be a guy. You’ve been thinking about him all week.”

“No, maybe school, maybe something that happened the night before I left--”

“Was a guy involved?”

“Well, truthfully, three.”

“See? One of them has to be the guy.”

“Oh, Ronnie--”

He patted her hand. “Look, honey, I’m twenty-four years old. I want to get married, and you don’t. I want to start a family and watch them grow up and go to their school events. I want to see the kids play ball and perform in the Christmas program at church.“

“I want those things, too, Ronnie.“

“You’re just not ready for them the way I am. I’m content to stay here in Canton at the gas station, and you want to live in new towns. And I wouldn’t dream of holding you back. If I did, you’d regret your lost opportunities the rest of your life. Canton is my life now and always will be. I think we’ve changed and grown apart. I think we should call it quits.”

“Start out the new year with no strings?” She sighed, and they were quiet for a long time. “I’ll always love you in a special way, Ronnie. You’ll always be my Elvis.”

He smirked and nodded.

“And, who knows?” Jean continued. “We still may get together again.”

His smile was bitter. “Yeah. Who knows?”

She glanced at the house. “I better go in. The folks will still be up. Want to come in for awhile?”

He shook his head.

“Happy New Year’s, then.” She leaned over and gave him a friendly kiss.  
“Goodbye, Jean.”

“I’m sorry, Ronnie.”

“Yeah. I know. I just hope that other stiff back in Woodstock knows how lucky he is.”

“But there’s no one, really.”

“Happy New Year’s, Jean. And I know it will be for you.”

Jean stood at the end of the sidewalk and watched him drive away. She watched until the tail lights disappeared around the corner a block away. Then she gazed at the cold sharpness of the stars and breathed deeply of the crisp air. As she walked down the sidewalk, she was amazed at how light she felt, as if she’d discarded a terrible load.

Jean wrinkled her brow. Had Ronnie been right? Was there someone in Woodstock? In her lucid moments that week, she’d thought of the Cramer brothers. Robert Cramer was critical, frowning, demanding perfection, yet socially flawed himself. But the picture she could not erase was of him as he lay sprawled all over a couch in a sweatshirt and jeans, risking everything for her honor, but so vulnerable to the world himself. 

And then there was Paul Cramer. She smiled softly. Paul, charming, gallant, fun to be with, and kissing her under mistletoe that didn’t exist. Dear Paul! He could really turn a girl’s head.

Good grief! Was she torching for Paul Cramer?

What would be so hard about that?

By the time she reached the house, she was positively giddy from the prospects of Paul Cramer being in her future and from breathing the cold air. “Happy New Year!” she cried to her parents and gave them the first genuine smile they’d seen from her all week.

 

Jean slept late the next morning and moaned as she rolled over in bed and tried to go back to sleep. Thin strains of marching band music drifted upstairs to her.

Suddenly, she threw back her covers and jumped out of bed. The Rose Bowl Parade! She was missing the Rose Bowl Parade, and it was a family tradition for her and Brenna to watch it with their father. This well might be the last year that Brenna would be watching it with them, and Jean was missing it!

Fifteen minutes later, Jean perched on the living room sofa with a strawberry pop tart and a glass of orange juice.

 

“Did I miss much?” she asked as a glorious float decorated with hundreds of brilliant roses passed by the television cameras.

“About twenty minutes,” her father answered. “They’re really pretty floats this year.”

Jean grinned. Her father said that every year.

“I tried to get your mother to come out and watch, but she’s putting the beef stew together. There‘s a science to her recipe, you know.”

Jean grinned. “I know.”

Beef stew and biscuits was a New Year’s Day tradition in the Harnett home. Followed by hot peach cobbler. After a week of turkey leftovers, the family welcomed the change of menu.

“I should go help Mother with dinner.”

“You know she won’t allow that, Jean. Brenna’s already tried and failed.”

Brenna shrugged from the depths of a recliner. Craig’s present to Brenna, a gold facet cut bracelet, caught the light and twinkled merrily every time she moved her wrist. Craig hadn't purchased that trinket at any five and dime store. Jean considered it a pretty serious present, and she was pretty certain that Brenna did, also.

 

Jean enjoyed the beef stew and the Rose Bowl game and didn’t give Woodstock school another thought until she was driving back toward it late the next afternoon. In a couple of days, she would have to face Robert Cramer and accept her punishment for her part in the fiasco that happened with her and Brian Landis after the Christmas party at Woodstock High.

She sighed deeply. She knew her apology would be a humbling experience, especially since she had to give it to Robert Cramer. How could he ever understand, especially since he made so few mistakes himself?

 

“Mr. Cramer, I want to apologize for causing you so much trouble and to thank you for all your help the night that Mr. Landis and I had our unfortunate trouble. The incident was all my fault, and I am ready to accept any punishment you deem fitting.”

Cramer studied Jean’s rigid stance and recognized the singsong of her well rehearsed speech. “Relax, Miss Harnett. We are not being formal here. And please sit down. I really do insist.”

Jean seemed to crumble visibly and she collapsed into the indicated chair in his office.

“Thank you for your apology, Miss Harnett, and I’m only too glad that I could help you. As for assuming full responsibility, you can’t.” He saw her startled look. “Miss Bergetti and Mr. Landis are also claiming that dubious honor. As I see it, all parties involved are somewhat guilty, even I.” He held up his hand to prevent her from protesting. “When you left the party, I should have come after you to make sure you were okay. I knew you were upset, and I should have at least offered more help and support.”

“But--”

“I’m sorry I didn’t. For that I am deeply sorry. Please accept my apology for not stepping up as I should have.“

“You’re forgiven,“ she said woodenly. “You mean, you’ve been stewing about this mess? All over Christmas vacation?“

“I was concerned about you, Miss Harnett. And not just because you are on the faculty here, and that I am your immediate superior.”

“Thank you,” Jean said softly.

“I knew you were upset, yet I did nothing. So everyone shares in the blame. As for punishment, I think that’s probably already been meted out. I believe we’ve all punished ourselves sufficiently. I hope that your holiday wasn’t unduly overshadowed by the incident.”

Jean thought back over the fog that had enveloped her during the Christmas recess. She still hadn’t decided what had been bothering her, but it wasn’t the accident or its possibly dire consequences.

“No. No,” she said slowly, because he was waiting for an answer.

“Good. Now we’ll just forge ahead into the new year with the incident given its proper place in our life experience. It was an unfortunate thing to happen, but perhaps we’ve all learned by it. I know I have.” He frowned at her vacant stare at him. “Miss Harnett, are you still with me?”

“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Cramer.” Was she back in that numbing fog again? She sat forward. “As you were saying--”

“Never mind. It’s time that we got back to our duties. It’s nearly time for first hour classes to meet.”

“I really am sorry that I dragged you into all that mess, Mr. Cramer,” she said with a personal sincerity that had been missing from her first apology. “I really didn’t know who else to call.”

“I’m glad you felt free to ask for my help,” he said with an equally off-the-cuff feeling. “I’m not sure if I’d been brave enough to have done that. Thank you for your trust.”

She frowned as if she was amazed by his lack of understanding. “Why, of course, I trust you, Mr. Cramer. I depend on you. Didn’t you know that?”

Her childish faith in him gave him a sudden rush of pleasure. He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Mother said that you’d called our act of charity the nicest present you’ve ever received. Now you’ve just given me one of equal value. Thank you.”

“You gave me help when I needed it, and I knew you did it as a friend as well as an administrator. That’s what friends are for, and you certainly were one to me,” she answered and gave him a second present.

Cramer’s heart soared. He was included in the young faculty members, after all! He wasn’t just an administrator to them. Up until now, he had not realized he’d been wanting their approval. But he did not indicate in any manner to Jean how pleased he felt with her words, not even with a smile.

“There goes the bell, Miss Harnett. Let’s put this incident behind us now and get back to work.”

She gave him a relieved smile. “Thank you, Mr. Cramer. I’ll try to do better in the future.”

“Thank you, Miss Harnett,” he said wearily. “That would give me an infinite amount of pleasure. You‘ll never know how much.”

She wanted to laugh out loud at his unconscious humor, but he would have never understood. So she smiled, instead. Her brilliant smile nearly blinded him as she leaned toward him and squeezed his arm. “Happy New Year, Mr. Cramer.”

“Happy New Year, Miss Harnett,” he managed to answer. 

He watched her scurry down the hallway, her smile still charming all she met. The glow of her two presents remained with Cramer the rest of the day.

 

“Well, at least that lovely church service made up for not being able to go home this weekend, Mrs. D.,” Jean said as the two women paused at the top of the church steps. “I’m a beginning driver and don’t have the confidence to take out over snowy roads, like Zoe did. But today is beautiful with all this sunshine! Watch your step now.” She breathed deeply. “Just smell that air!”

Mrs. Doubleday smiled as she clutched Jean’s arm as they negotiated the slippery steps and spoke to other parishioners. “You go ahead and enjoy the crisp air, dear. It’s too cold for my lungs. I’ll start coughing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Let me get you to the car where it’ll be warm.”

Mrs. Doubleday laughed. “I’m not that fragile, dear. I just can’t breathe deeply.”

“Jean! Hi! How are you today?”

Jean looked up into the friendly face and returned the smile. “Paul Cramer! I didn’t know you were a Methodist.”

“I’m not. We’re Christians. I’m visiting.”

“How nice for us! Do you know Mrs. Doubleday?”

“Of course! How are you, Iris?” he asked as he took her hand.

“Just fine, Paul. Now that you’re out of the service, are you going to be with us for awhile?”

He glanced quickly at Jean. “It depends on a lot of things.” He saw Jean blush, winked at her, then looked back at Mrs. Doubleday. “I need to get a job, but I might be a bum for awhile, if Mother will let me.”

“I doubt if you’ll allow yourself to do that, Paul. You were always very industrious and conscientious.”

“And you were always my number one supporter.”

“I thought you were going to be my son-in-law. I’ll never know what was wrong with Elaine Suzanne.”

Jean looked at Mrs. Doubleday. She’d never heard that Paul had once dated Mrs. D.’s daughter.

Paul frowned. “Elaine fell in love with Scott. I’m not too lucky in the affairs of the heart.”

They all three knew he was thinking of Elise Ott.

Paul’s natural cheerfulness made him plaster a bright grin on his face, and he looked squarely at both of them. “But this is a new year, and my luck is bound to change.” He winked again at Jean and loved the sunshine that filled her face. “But you’re getting cold out here. Let me escort you to your car.” He took an elbow of each lady and guided them toward Jean’s Pontiac. “I used to be the best fan of your blackberry pies, Iris. Do you still bake them?”

“Oh, heavens, yes! I can’t eat them anymore myself because of the seeds, but I take pleasure in other people enjoying them.”

They stopped near Jean’s car and paused.

“Tell you what, Paul,” Mrs. D. continued. “The next time I make blackberry pies, I’ll give you a call and you can come over and have a slice. It’ll be like old times.”

“Great! It’s a date. Well, ladies, I have to run. Nice seeing you again, Iris. Jean, I hope you had a good Christmas.”

“Thank you, Paul, I did. And I’m still looking for a way to thank you for your help.”

“That’s easy! Let me take you to the movies sometime soon, like this Thursday night. The latest James Bond movie is playing in Springfield.”

“Oh, I love 007!”

“Good! We can grab a sandwich at the Dairy Queen before hand. Let’s wear blue jeans and sweatshirts and act like a couple of teenagers.”

“Chocolate milk shakes, too?”

“Well, of course!”

Jean laughed. Paul was trying to make the asking for a date seem so casual, yet she could tell her acceptance was very important to him. His break-up with Elise must’ve been very painful for him, and now he was needing friendship as much as a romantic relationship.

“But that will only give me pleasure to accept, Paul. Then I’ll owe you two favors. How will I ever square my account with you?”

His grin deepened and mischief shone in his eyes. “We’ll figure something out.”

“You make me blush.”

“That’s fun, too.”

Mrs. D. looked from one glowing face to the other. “Pardon me for creating a crowd scene, my dears. You two are in your own special world. Perhaps we should be leaving, Jean.”

Jean blushed. “Of course.” She gave her hand to Paul. “Goodbye, Paul.”

He squeezed her hand. “Until the next time. Or Thursday evening, whichever comes first.”

Jean’s smile softened, if that was possible.

Then remembering that someone else was present, Paul touched the brim of his hat. “Iris.”

Mrs. D.’s eyes were twinkling. “Paul.”

In the car, Jean could barely contain her excitement as she drove through the bladed packed snow. “What a nice person Paul is!”

“You won’t get any argument from me, dear. He’s always been very outgoing.”

Jean glanced at her. “You certainly look pleased.”

“And you look radiant. Paul Cramer does that to women.“

Jean winked. “Doesn’t he? Well, here we are at the house.”

They crawled out of the car.

“Watch your step on the snow, Mrs. D. Two blocks seemed too close to take the car and too far to walk through the snow.” She opened the front door. “You didn’t lock the house?”

“In Woodstock? For an hour?”

“I can’t wait to get out of this good wool dress and into my slacks!”

“After you get changed, why don’t you pop over and have a dish of stew with me? I made a spinach salad, too. It’d save your having to cook something.”

“Bless you, Mrs. D.! You spoil me.”

 

“There! That’s better!” Jean declared as she patted down her turquoise long-sleeved blouse. “What can I do?”

“Grab that dish of canned peaches out of the fridge and the oleo. Now, sit down and stop fussing.”

“You’ve got those good dinner rolls again! You’ll have to tell me your baking secret!”

“Practice, my dear. With three children, I got a lot of practice.”

Jean grinned. “That would do it. This stew is delicious.”

“You and Zoe should let me cook for you more often.”

“And we’d both balloon out in a week! We’d have to buy clothes two sizes bigger than we’re wearing now.”

“It’d be fun to spoil you two.”

“You do enough of that the way it is. My parents call you my second mother, and they’re right.”

“You and Zoe are pretty important people in my life right now. I certainly enjoy having you two living here.”

“I feel right at home here. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve lived in Woodstock forever. I have to stop and remember that it’s been only a few months. I could live here the rest of my life and not regret it.”

“Could a certain young man have you feeling that way? I didn’t mean to make you blush, my dear. Excuse my prying.”

“That’s all right. I know you’re concerned about me.”

“You and Paul certainly looked sweet together awhile ago. I like being around when two people discover each other.”

“Actually, that happened right before Christmas.”

“Well, it’s still happening, my dear. And it‘s lovely to watch.”

“We may never be nothing more than good friends.”

“You couldn’t pick a better one than Paul Cramer. He’s a good man.” She smiled. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been around when a gentleman asked a lady for a first date, except when Arnold Doubleday asked me, of course. And we’d been friends for years before that. We’d grown up on adjoining farms just north of town.” She glanced at Jean. “Good friends make good husbands, my dear.”

Jean blushed. “Let’s not get me married off just yet.”

“You never know. One thing more, my dear, And I hate to mention it because I don’t want to burst your bubble. The Cramers attend the Christian Church, and so do the Otts. I heard that Elise was visiting her parents this weekend. Paul might’ve not wanted to have seen her so he attended another church.”

“Or he might’ve deliberately meant to run into me.”

“That’s true. Maybe he’s ready for another relationship.”

“Or maybe I’m getting him on the rebound.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Jean.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“It would be easy to fall in love with Paul Cramer.”

“I know. He’s everything I’d ever want in a man.”

“He’s so unlike his brother Bob. That young man is much too serious for his own good.”

“I’ll agree with you there. He’s too one-dimensional.”

“He hardly seems human, I expect.”

That hardly seemed fair. A picture of Robert Cramer lying exhausted on a sofa flashed into Jean’s mind. There was something about seeing him so defenseless that disturbed her. She wanted to protect him, somehow. Perhaps sink to her knees and shield his body with her own. Something stupid like that.

Jean jerked. Where had those feelings come from?

“He was a holy terror as a child, though.”

“Robert Cramer?” Jean asked with interest. Here was another side to Cramer.

“Once he decided to climb to the top of the church tower. He must’ve been all of four years old at the time.”

“The Christian Church?” 

“Yes, so you know how steep those inside steps have to be. Especially for his short legs at the time. Alida about had a fit when she saw how high up he’d gotten.”

“How did they get him down?”

“His father went after him.”

Jean grinned. “Did he get a lickin’?”

“I suppose he did. His parents couldn’t allow that to happen again. Smith Cramer bragged about Bob’s climb for years after that, though.”

“What kind of man was Mr. Cramer?”

“He was a lot like Paul, in build and temperament. People liked him. He was very personable. That’s what made him a good insurance agent. Too bad his health didn’t hold up.”

“Heart attack, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Paul was just a freshman in high school, and the other boys were younger.”

“Is that why Robert Cramer became so quiet?”

“Partly. He became more introverted and moody in college when he was separated from Paul. Bob was fairly good in high school sports, as was Paul, but he wasn’t as popular in social situations. He and Paul were both good students, but Paul was never as dedicated to books as Bob was. Maybe that’s why Bob excelled scholastically. It was something he could do better than Paul.”

Jean glanced quickly at Mrs. D. “There’s rivalry between them then?”

“Bob would deny it. He adores his older brother.”

“But sibling rivalry is difficult to avoid, and Robert Cramer must think that he comes in a poor second.”

“Wouldn’t you, if Paul were your older brother?”

Jean smiled softly. Having Paul Cramer court her was becoming more appealing every moment.

 

Jean was grading essays when Zoe arrived a couple of hours later. Red hair spilled over the muffler wrapped around the collar of Zoe’s tweed coat. Jean smiled as Zoe shivered. “What are you so cold about? You’re the one who arrived with a blast of arctic air.”

Zoe rubbed her gloved hands together. “I think it’s getting colder out there. Maybe there’s just moisture in the air. What are you doing? Grading papers? Wish I was that dedicated.”

“Just desperate. I thought I was used to small town life, but sometimes Woodstock is too small.”

“That sounds like something I might say, not you.” Zoe tossed her coat across the sofa. “I’m going to make some hot cocoa. Would you like to have some?”

“Sure. That sounds good.”

Jean gladly left the essay grading until later.

 

“What a lovely idea to come out here to go ice skating,” Jean said as she and Paul sat on a fallen log on the bank of the small farm pond. She looked around in pleasure. “It’s a perfect Saturday afternoon for January with the sunshine so brilliant on the snow. First the James Bond film on Thursday night, and now this!”

“What’s fun is watching you enjoy it so much.”

She turned and saw that he was indeed looking at her instead of the landscape. She smiled at him, then nodded toward the trees. “It’s so pristine out here. Except for animal tracks, the snow hasn’t been disturbed.”

“This is the old Farnsworth place. My grandparents farmed it. It’s where my mother grew up.”

“I know. Your brother brought me out here one night.”

Paul’s eyebrows shot up, then his lips formed a big ‘O’.

Jean socked his arm. “Not for that, silly! I was upset and he was trying to calm me down. He was being a pal.”

“I can’t quite picture him in that role.” Paul frowned. “Trouble is, I can’t picture him in the romantic role, either.”

“Okay, I was being generous. Friendship didn’t enter into it. He was being an administrator by trying to keep me from being a bigger idiot than I’d already been.”

Paul nodded. “Now that sounds more like Bob. Putting the school’s welfare first.”

“Don’t be so hard on him. He was right.”

“As always. You know, sometimes that can get a little tiresome. I’d just once like for him to be so utterly wrong about his judgment of a situation that he really gets bogged down into a mess of his own making.”

“Paul! That’s not being very nice!”

“You don’t understand. It’s hard to live around so much perfection. Bob likes to have tight control of his world and that’s not always good. He needs to have his very moorings shaken. He’s become calcified. There’s times I feel like I’ve lost the brother I once knew.”

Jean put her hand on his arm and looked concerned.

“When I got home right before Christmas, I was stunned. Bob had changed so much in the few months since I’d last seen him. He’s always been serious, but he’s almost morbid now. I think that principal’s job did that to him. There’s only been once lately that I’ve had a glimpse of the brother I used to know.” He glanced at Jean and grinned. “And you were responsible for it.”

“Me?! When?”

“That night he and I rescued you and Landis out of that ditch, and the next morning when Bob, Mother, and I went through the great car exchange. That whole business really ruffled Bob’s feathers. He let himself slip several times. It was good therapy for him. Thanks.”

“It was unintentional, I can assure you.”

Paul laughed. “Mother even enjoyed herself.”

Jean smiled. “She’s a doll. I think I was a little afraid of meeting her, though. Both times I have been around her concerned rather ridiculous situations, but she was an angel.”

“Both?”

“Oh, your brother got sick once at school and I took him home because your mother was at club. He kept babbling on about my being his personal physician, and the situation passed from silliness to ludicrousness.”

Paul laughed. “Did I ever tell you about his dry sense of humor or his love of the ridiculous? He tries to hide it, but it keeps cropping out. Don’t misjudge him. And don’t underestimate him. He may be more aware of remarks than you think.”

“Why do you suppose there would be remarks?”

“Come on now! Don’t act innocent with me. There’s not an administrator working who isn’t discussed and cussed by his faculty. Bob is no exception and probably deserves it more than most. I know my brother. I’m just saying don’t fool yourself into thinking he doesn’t know what’s going on. I also know people. They talk about their bosses, and generally it isn’t very good what they say.”

“Then why doesn’t he do something about it?”

“Probably because he can’t. Bosses are supposed to be aloof and detached from the staff. They can’t be regular guys and still get the administrative job done.”

“I think he’s using his position to hide behind.”

“Probably. But let’s talk about someone more interesting. You, for instance.”

“Me?! I’m not very interesting.”

He smiled fondly at her. “Intriguing, then.”

She returned the smile. “I don’t think of myself as a femme fatale.”

He flicked his eyes over her open face. “No, you’re more the girl next door in blue jeans, ponytail, and skinned elbows from climbing the apple tree in the back yard. But there’s something more about you, some air of mystery, that’s hard to pinpoint, but is still there. You seem like a wide-eyed, innocent child, but underneath I sense that you’re a mature, efficient woman with the strength of steel in your backbone. How could you be two people at once?”

“Blame my parents. I inherited both their traits.”

“You could keep a man puzzled and guessing for a lifetime, and I doubt if the lucky guy would ever mind that he never did quite get you figured out.” 

He grew quiet as he studied her in appreciation. He was about to take her in his arms and kiss her when Jean jumped up. She’d realized his intentions and didn’t know if she was quite ready for that show of affection. She thought that they should stay pals instead of getting serious quite yet.

“I’m rested!” she announced. “I think it’s time to go back to ice skating.”

With a laugh, Paul stood, also. “Okay, Teach, I’ll be a good boy.”

They stepped onto the ice and began skating. The crisp air bit at their cheeks and made the pair feel alive. Around and around the small pond they skated while their laughter and shouts brought life to the winter sleeping fields.

Jean paused and looked up the hill at a distant figure silhouetted against the snow. “Look, there’s someone else out here. He’s carrying a gun.”

Paul followed the direction she was looking. “It’s some rabbit hunter, most likely.” He looked down at Jean and winked. “Good thing all we’re doing is ice skating. Anything else would be common knowledge in Woodstock before we got back to town. Come on, forget that guy. He won’t bother us if we don’t bother him. Our shouts might even flush out some rabbits for him. Come on, let’s not waste this great ice.”

Jean gave the hunter one last look, then forgot him. “Catch me!” she yelled as she took off with a whoop. Paul laughed and followed her.

 

They needn’t have worried about the rabbit hunter reporting their activities. Robert Cramer heard their laughter, cradled his gun in the crook of his arm, and gazed down at the two figures frolicking on the pond. He knew Paul was out here somewhere on the farm. Bob had seen his car. Ice skating was logical. Bob had considered it himself. Now he was glad he wasn’t interrupting whatever was going on down there. He didn’t know what girl Paul had brought out here, but he knew it wasn’t Elise. Thank goodness Paul was genuinely laughing again and not just putting up a brave front. Bob knew that the breakup with Elise must have been painful for Paul, and he thanked this new girl for bringing gaiety back to his brother. Bob wondered idly who the girl was, then realized he would soon learn her identity if she and Paul became serious about each other.

If Paul and Elise were truly separated that meant Bob might be able to date her. His heart quickened with the possibility. Elise had always been a secret love of his, but he would never make a move if he thought Paul still loved her. Brothers just didn’t do that to each other.

Robert Cramer had rarely dated any girl past the first time with Elise. Most had been for fraternity dances and blind dates set up by friends. He’d never been serious about anybody, except Elise.

Bob turned his back on the pond and walked over the brow of the hill to give the courting couple their privacy. Their laughter followed him and he frowned when he heard the woman. That voice sounded familiar. But he quickly dismissed the possibility that she was someone he knew. All women in the first stage of courtship laughed the same. Someday, if he were lucky, some woman would laugh with him that way. Her smile would be infectious and her manner would be gentle and kind. Or so he had always imagined her. And she would love him for his faults as well as his assets. And he would treasure her above all women in the world.

Bob shook his head to clear it as his booted foot slid in the snow. He better stop day dreaming or he’d bag no rabbits today.

But as he trudged through the snow, the sounds of the woman’s laughter haunted him. At last, thankfully, the sound grew faint enough to almost disappear. And then, a passing jet overhead drowned it out completely.

Except in his heart where it echoed for the rest of the afternoon.

 

Just as the sun was setting behind the hill crossed by the rabbit hunter, Paul and Jean stowed their skates in the trunk of Paul’s car.

“Brrr! It’s starting to get cold,” Jean said as she straightened and glanced at Paul who gave her an appreciative smile.

“It sure looks good on you, honey. You’re glowing.” He leaned forward and gave her a friendly kiss on the lips. “I’ve wanted to do that all afternoon.”

“Thanks for finally working up your nerve.”

He drew back, but continued to gaze at her. “No, I thank you.”

Jean tilted her head. “For what?”

“For being a friend. I needed one today. You’ve been a perfect companion.” He slammed the trunk lid, then drew his arm around Jean’s shoulders and steered her to the passenger side of the car. He reached down and opened the car door for her, then smiled at her.

They gazed at each other, and both felt a mutual happiness and pleasure. He bent down and kissed her again.

That kiss had nothing to do with friendship.

 

“Hello, Mother,” Paul called as he bounced into her warm kitchen.

Alida Cramer shut the oven door and straightened. “How are you, dear? My, you look pink and healthy.”

“Exercise will do that for you,” he answered as he grabbed a celery stick and crunched on it. “What smells so good?”

“Bob shot three rabbits this afternoon. I’m smothering one of them for supper.”

“What happened?” he asked with a mischievous grin. “Didn’t Bob get a clean shot at it?”

“Oh, you!” She swatted at him, but it was obvious that she was charmed by his blarney. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I had a great afternoon,” Paul said as he piled down in a chair. “I was ice skating out at the farm.”

“I know. Bob saw you.”

“Then it was him out there hunting rabbits.”

Alida arched an eyebrow at him. “He said you had a girl with you.”

“Not just any girl, Mother.” He gave her a quick glance. “Jean Harnett.”

Alida’s eyebrow arched higher. “Oh?”

“Don’t mention her to Bob. She’s still uncomfortable around him. She’s a great person, Mother.”

“I know that.”

“I’d like to invite her here to dinner sometime.”

“Anytime you want, Paul, but don’t you think Bob will become suspicious if he sees her sitting at the dinner table with you? Won’t he catch on that you’re seeing her?”

He studied her. “You’re something, you know?”

“I have to be to keep up with three sons. But Bob really does need to be told that you’re seeing Jean. It might ease the tension between them.”

“Or make it worse.” Paul winked. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way.”

“And be nice about it.”

Paul looked innocent. “I’m always nice to my brother.”

Alida gave him a skeptical look.

Paul grinned. “Sometimes I’m just--” He shrugged his left shoulder and winked. “--nicer than other times.”

Alida rolled her eyes and sighed.

Paul sobered. “I like Jean a lot, Mother.”

“I know that, too.”

“But I don’t know if I’m ready for a new relationship. I’m still sorting out my feelings about Elise. She meant a lot to me.”

“Then don’t promise Jean too much. She’s a good person. And she’ll make you a good friend, if nothing else. You need to stay in circulation, and she may be willing to help you through a tough period in your life.”

“I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want her to fall in love with me if I can’t return her feelings.”

“You love her already, dear.”

Paul looked startled, then frowned. “That’s not the same thing as being in love, and you know it.”

“That’s right. You and Jean may never be nothing more than good friends, but you should both feel lucky for that much. A true friend is harder to find than romantic love.” She paused. “When you came in, I mentioned that you looked pink and healthy, and you said that exercise can do that for you. So can love, son. Be very careful about your motives, dear. I know that you want everything to be free and spontaneous between you two, and it can be. Just remember how you want to treat your friend.”

The door to the dining room swung open, and Bob walked toward the refrigerator.

“The mighty hunter returns!” Paul announced with a grin. His good humor had returned with the prospect of needling his much too serious brother.

Bob shot him a look while he pried the cap off a bottle of Coca Cola. Bob had tried for indifference in the glance, but contempt had shown through, anyway. He took a sip of the soda. “At least I have something more to show for my afternoon than a wind burned face.”

“And why do you think I don’t? We were just out to bag different game, little brother.”

“You boys!” Alida threw up her hands and went back to her dinner preparations.

Bob glared down at Paul. “It’s lucky you two didn’t melt the ice on the pond.”

“We weren’t skating that fast.”

“There’s other ways to melt ice.”

Paul winked at him. “That’s right.”

“Boys!”

“Yes, Mother,” they said in unison, but it was obvious it was a rote answer.

Paul kept his glance as steady as Bob’s. “How do you know what went on? You left too fast.”

“Sound carries a long ways on cold air.”

Paul grinned slyly. “As long as you could hear us then, you know that nothing went on. She’s a wonderful little lady. I wouldn’t do anything to sully our family name. Not on your turf.”

They stared at each other, then Bob walked out of the kitchen with his Coke.

“That wasn’t exactly telling him about Jean, dear.”

“The time wasn’t right,” Paul mumbled. “Did you hear him? I think he was trying to tell me how to behave!” He couldn’t keep the sound of irritation out of his voice. “No wonder Jean thinks she should tiptoe around him. That’s probably how he treats his staff. But we’re not in school now, and I’m not one of his teachers.”

“Now you can understand how Jean must feel around Bob,” Alida said gently. “That’s why it’s going to be difficult for both of them to be in a strictly social situation together.”

“If I bring Jean here for dinner, I don’t want to be a peace negotiator between them,” he grumbled. “After all, it will be an official date for Jean and me. I’ll want to concentrate on her, not maintaining peace between the two of them.”

Alida stiffened with purpose. “Don’t worry, dear. I will be the official hostess for this proposed dinner party. I will handle the situation.”

“You will?” he asked in awe.

“Of course. I have dined with State Senators and once hosted the Governor of this state at this table. Ishould be able to get through one little dinner party with my own sons in my own home.”

“And Miss Jean Harnett, Mother? Don’t forget her. I think she’s probably a catalyst. Nothing’s ever going to be simple when Jean’s around.”

Alida smiled. “Bless her for that! We all need a little shaking up once in awhile.”

Paul grinned. “Especially Bob.” He was remembering what he’d told Jean that very afternoon about someone needing to put Bob’s world in upheaval. “With her personality and quirky ways, Jean could really work a number on Bob.”

“Don’t start playing matchmaker with those two. That could be a volatile situation. They don’t quite like each other, and I’m not sure why. They seem to have nothing in common.”

“So much for the theory that opposites attract. Hmm. What a challenge,” he mumbled as he drummed his fingers on the kitchen table.

“Watch out, son. A third party could get burned fingers.”

Paul’s head shot up. “Do you think I’m crazy?! I like Jean way too much to dump her on Bob. Besides,” he mumbled, “she’s my girl.” His face began to glow. “Did you hear what I just said? I called Jean my girl. My girl. I like the sounds of that.”

Alida smiled at the flush of pleasure on Paul’s face. Jean Harnett might become an important part of their family, after all. And that wouldn’t bother Alida Cramer one bit. Paul might be right about Jean being a catalyst. The young lady in question seemed to be having a definite influence on two of her sons.

“Go wash up for dinner, dear. You have about half an hour before the rabbit is done. You could even watch television with Bob. He’s got some sort of basketball game on, I believe.”

But when Paul walked into the living room, he had no desire to keep Bob company. He walked upstairs and decided to read until he was called for dinner.

 

Alida glanced up as Bob walked into the kitchen. “My, you’re all dressed up. Going out this evening?”

“I’m taking Elise out to dinner,” he said with a frown.

“You don’t seem very happy about it.”

He glanced up. “Hmm? Oh, no, it’s nothing about her.” His frown deepened.

“Then, what?”

“Hmm?”

“What is on your mind that has you so thoughtful?” she asked patiently.

“Oh. Nothing much, really. I’m just curious about Paul’s new love interest.”

Oh, oh, dangerous ground. “Me, too,” Alida answered carefully.

“Has he said anything to you about her?”

“He likes her very much, I believe.”

“Ah, and who she is?”

Oh, oh, very dangerous ground! “He’ll tell us more about her when he’s ready, I’m sure,” she replied smoothly. She arched an eyebrow. “In the meanwhile, how does he feel about your seeing Elise?”

“She’s not just Paul’s ex-girlfriend,” Bob said in defense. “She’s a good friend of mine, too. Paul isn‘t the only one hurting over that split-up. I’m trying to help her through a rough time.”

“And I’m sure that’s what Paul’s new friend is trying to do, too.”

“I’m not exactly stealing her away from him, you know! They broke up! The field is wide open!”

Alida blinked. Bob rarely showed emotion. “Don’t feel guilty, dear.”

“I’m not!” He turned away, then looked back. “Okay, I am. I always liked Elise. But it’s not exactly like I stole her from him.“ He mentally chewed his lip. “Is it?”

“No, dear, it isn’t.” But Alida doubted whether Bob really accepted the logic of the situation. The reality was that Bob loved his older brother and didn’t want to hurt him.

 

Jean eagerly studied the gaudy neon sign against the dark January night as Paul drove into the parking lot beside the restaurant in Springfield.

“The Starlight Dining Room,” she murmured, then glanced at him with a smile. “I’ve heard of this place, Paul. I’ve never eaten here before, though. Have you?”

Paul returned her smile as he helped her from the car. “Never.” He pulled his arm around her shoulders and led her toward the front door of the restaurant. “Tonight we’ll check it out and see if we want to give it our stamp of approval.”

“Oh, I’m sure we will!”

Her eyes glowed with excitement, and Paul wondered if he dared steal a kiss with so many other people present to see.

Jean tilted her head. “What are you thinking about?”

“How lucky I am to be escorting you this evening.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a fairly loose translation of what you were really thinking?”

He winked. “Very loose. Come on! Let’s get inside. I’m starving!”

“Me, too!”

They entered the elegant foyer which was draped in maroon velvet.

“Oh, Paul, it’s lovely!”

“Here, let’s check our coats. I’ll help you off with yours. Oops! My ring caught the lace on the shoulder of your dress. I’m sorry, Jean.”

“You didn’t mean to, Paul. I’ll just duck into the ladies’ room and make a quick repair.” She held up her evening bag. “I never go anywhere without needle and thread.”

“Good girl! You go make your repairs, and I’ll check on our table.”

“Good! I’ll be right out.” She slipped into the ladies’ room.

But the tear on the shoulder of her dress proved elusive. She tried reaching backwards and only succeeded in turning backwards in a small circle.

“May I be of assistance?” asked the cool blonde beside her who was returning her lipstick to her evening bag.

Jean glanced up. The beautiful woman reminded her of a haughty Grace Kelly. “Oh, could you? I can’t seem to catch up with this rip.”

“Here, let me try. Hand me that needle and thread.”

Jean watched the stitching in the wall mirror. What a pretty woman had come to her rescue! And nice!

“There, that should hold until you have a chance to fix it properly.”

“You’re a doll! That you so much for helping.”

“Glad I could,” Jean’s Samaritan said as they walked out of the ladies’ room. “How wise you are to carry a needle and thread.”

“I have to! My father thinks I should carry a doctor’s kit. I’m always doing crazy things to myself, although my escort was really guilty of this damage.”

“Oh?” the blonde asked with a raised eyebrow, but with a hint of humor in her ice-blue eyes.

Jean had the grace to blush. “Oh, it wasn’t that! His ring caught it when he helped me with my coat.”

Her new friend smiled, and some of her haughtiness disappeared. The smile had disclosed a hidden warmth that might be very pleasant to explore. Jean thought she could like her.

“Thanks again, and I hope you have a nice evening.” She searched the semi-dark room before them. “Now, where did he go? Oh, there’s my date now.”

But the pretty woman wasn’t listening. And her warm smile had frozen on her face. She was staring at Paul who had risen halfway from his chair to hail Jean. The shock on Paul’s face mirrored the shock on the face of the cool blonde beside Jean. Only now, the lady didn’t look so cool.

“Paul?” the lady asked as he approached them.

“Elise?”

Jean did not need to be told that the pretty blonde at her side was Elise Ott.

“Are you here by yourself?” Paul asked Elise as he held out a hand to her.

Jean felt that she and the rest of the other people in the restaurant had quite been forgotten.

Paul remembered where he was and dropped his hand. “I mean, do you have a date?”

“I do, somewhere.” She searched the shadows around the front door. “Oh, here he comes now,” she said in relief, then a look of panic crossed her face. “Oh, no!”

Paul stared. “Bob?”

Cramer stared back. “Paul?”

In the mass of confusion, Jean turned her back so Cramer wouldn’t recognize her. But she forgot that her back was almost as familiar to him as her front.

“Miss Harnett?!”

Jean grimaced and turned to face him. “Good evening, Mr. Cramer.”

“I don’t understand, Bob,” Elise was saying. “Do you know this young lady?”

“Yes. She’s a member of the school faculty. And apparently, Paul’s date.” He frowned at Paul. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were seeing Miss Harnett?”

“The opportunity never presented itself, Brother.” Paul couldn’t fight down the resentment that he was feeling. “Just as you, apparently, never had the opportunity to say that you were dating Elise.”

Robert Cramer bristled. “I thought the field was clear!”

The silence was deafening.

“I see that you two are trying the new place, too,” Jean said gamely. When she looked at Elise Ott, Jean could see the unmistakable hurt and jealousy in Elise’s beautiful eyes. And when Jean looked at Robert Cramer, she saw confusion and a man struggling to save everybody more embarrassment.

“That’s right,” Bob Cramer mumbled. “I didn’t realize we’d run into you, Paul. Elise needed a change of scene, that’s why I brought her here.”

Beside her, Jean felt Paul stiffen. She looked up into Paul’s face and gave him a smile that seemed to encourage him. Then she slipped her hand into Paul’s and felt him grasp it. He must’ve been very thankful for her support for she saw him visibly bring himself under control.

“That’s wonderful, Bob.” Paul grinned and pulled his arm around Jean’s shoulders. “Hope you enjoy yourselves. We were just leaving. See you back at Woodstock.”

“Goodbye,” Jean murmured as Paul propelled her toward the front door. Outside, she paused and breathed deeply of the cold air. “I think that’s the fastest I’ve ever eaten dinner. I can barely remember it!”

“I’m sorry, Jean. I couldn’t stay in there.”

“That’s all right, Paul. You weren’t ready to face her yet, especially with another man on her arm.”

He beamed at her in the harsh artificial light of the restaurant’s garish neon sign and squeezed her shoulders. “Bless you, Jean Harnett, for understanding. Thanks for being a pal tonight.” He dropped his arm and took her elbow. “Come on. I’ll treat you to a burger.”

Out in the car, Jean finally broke the silence of several blocks. “Still hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. Breaking up is as bad as everyone has always said it is. I thought Elise was the one.” He winced. “I’m sorry I’m so fragile about it.”

“It’s understandable. I broke up with my boyfriend over Christmas.”

“You did? I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I guess it was over long before then, but we hadn’t realized it yet. He said that I must have a new guy back in Woodstock.” She turned to him and watched the street lights play on his handsome face. “Could that be true?”

Paul took a moment to answer. “Give me time, honey,” he said softly. “I’d like to be more than friends with you, but--”

“I won’t push it, Paul,” she answered in the same soft voice. “I know that you’re still hurting. Love does that to a person when it’s lost.”

He smiled gently at her. “You’re a wonderful person, did you know that, sweetheart? Some man’s going to be mighty lucky to get you. Maybe I’ll get bright enough to finally stop chasing dreams and become that lucky guy.”

“I might be pretty receptive to whatever you have to say.” She frowned. “I’m sorry I sounded so forward a moment ago, but I think I could fight tooth and nail to make you mine. That probably sounds brazen, but I don’t want you to mistake my intentions. Tonight made me realize something. I am interested in you.”

He grinned at her. “And I’m flattered. You do my ego a lot of good.” Then he sobered. “No, you mean more than that to me. I want to give us a chance, Jean. I don’t want us to be cheated out of a thing. I’m sorry I’m toting around all of this emotional baggage from my last relationship, though. It isn’t fair to you.”

You can’t help that, Paul. Elise was awfully special to you.”

“But you’re becoming special to me, too!” He paused. “If it happens to us, if we fall in love, I want everything to be good for us.”

“Me, too, Paul.” IF we fall in love, Jean thought. I don’t know about you, Buster, but I think I might be way ahead of you in that respect.

“In the meantime, how about that burger?” Paul suggested.

“Sounds like a good idea. I’m starving!”

 

On the way back to Woodstock, Paul said, “I want you to meet my mother.”

“I’ve already met your mother. Right before Christmas. Remember?”

“I meant, officially. Mother wants you to come over for dinner some evening.”

A tiny doubt tugged at Jean. “Just you and me and her and, ah, your brother, my administrator?”

“Well, it is his home, too, and he generally eats there. But if you’d feel more comfortable, I’m sure he could make other arrangements.”

“Nonsense! I wouldn’t dream of casting him out of his own home on a cold winter’s night. We eat together at school all the time. How bad can dinner together be?” But the doubt persisted.

 

Jean needn’t have worried. Dinner at the Cramer home was relaxing, the company decorous, and even Robert Cramer was charming, although he said very little.

“Thank you for a wonderful dinner, Mrs. Cramer. The food was delicious.”

“Thank you, my dear. I always enjoy female companionship, when my sons remember to bring their lady friends home to meet me.”

“Now, Mother,” Paul said. “We don’t want you to work so hard out in the kitchen.”

“Nonsense! I’ve never been afraid of hard work. Otherwise, I’d never been able to have raised three sons.”

“Three?” Jean questioned. “Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten about him.” But she remembered his room. She’d slept in it. She looked a little sheepish, remembering that night.

“Yes, Jerry, my youngest.”

“You said he was a college student,” Jean replied, anxious to grab onto any topic that would take their minds off THAT night.

“Yes. At State University.”

“You’d like him, Jean,” Paul added, feeling her discomfort about THAT night. “He’s a great teaser, though.”

“I know I’d like him, then. I have some uncles who plagued me through childhood with their teasing. They were part of my education.”

“Do you plan to teach for very long, my dear?”

“Yes! I’m loving it. Eventually, I’d like to get my master’s degree.”

“That’s very commendable. A young lady should be able to support herself.”

“I agree, Mrs. Cramer. But I love teaching for itself, too. I find that everything I do is a lesson. I’m a teacher for twenty-four hours a day, not just in the classroom. And I’m a continual example.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Robert Cramer said suddenly and startled the other three diners. He’d barely spoken through dinner, but now his blue eyes fired with enthusiasm. “Sometimes teachers are the only good role models that some students have. Their parents simply aren’t capable of nurturing their children properly.”

With that statement, Robert Cramer launched into a discussion of educational theory that excited him, amazed Jean, and bored Paul and Alida.

When he paused for breath, Alida expertly glided into his monologue. “That’s all very interesting, Robert, but I think that Jean would prefer another topic when she’s outside the school.”

Robert Cramer, properly chastised, blushed slightly and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“On the contrary. I think that education is very challenging,” Jean retorted.

“So am I when I get on a podium about it, Miss Harnett. I think I’m somewhat of a family joke.”

“We’re happy that you’re so enthusiastic about your chosen career, son, but the topic can get rather, ah, dry for those of us who are not in the teaching field.”

Robert Cramer smiled good-naturedly. “Sometimes I think I even bore myself.”

Everyone at the table laughed with him.

“There’s nothing wrong with being enthusiastic about education,” Jean persisted.

Robert Cramer studied her a moment. “Thank you, Miss Harnett. I appreciate your support.”

Jean returned his steady gaze.

Alida cleared her throat. “I think the time has also come for you two to stop being so formal with each other.”

Robert Cramer and Jean stared at her.

Paul grinned. “She means you aren’t in school this evening, kids.”

Robert Cramer and Jean both looked startled. Then they glanced quickly at each other, then away.

“At least try it, huh?” Paul encouraged.

“Ah,” Jean started. “You had some interesting theories, ah. Bob.”

“Thank you, ah. Jean.”

“See?” Paul grinned at them. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Jean felt like she’d fought a war. Then to change the subject, she pushed back her chair. “I’ll help you with the dishes, Mrs. Cramer.”

“Nonsense! You and Paul go into the living room. Bob will help me.”

“Me?!” Robert Cramer protested in pretended shock.

“You know the rules, Bob: Whoever does not bring a date to dinner has to help me in the kitchen.”

“Well, if that’s all it takes, then next time, I’LL bring Miss Harnett to dinner,” he grumbled as he started stacking dishes together.

“Now THAT would be a first,” Alida answered.

“Miss Harnett, Jean, would you do me the honor of--”

Jean felt a sudden panic attack overtake her.

“No, it wouldn’t work,” Cramer said with a shake of his head. “Mother would just have us both doing dishes.”

“That’s right. Paul, take your company into the living room while Cinderella and I slave away.”

Jean finally found back her voice in the living room. “I’ve never seen him act like THAT.”

Paul laughed. “Bob must’ve been having a good time. He must feel very relaxed around you.”

“I would have never guessed he could tease like that.”

“Are you saying that you misjudged him, Miss Harnett?” Paul asked gently.

She glanced at him. “Yes, I guess I have, haven’t I?” She breathed deeply as she absently smoothed her chair arm. “I’ve had good reason.”

Paul tilted his head at her. “Are you being defensive?” he asked with a grin.

“I think I’m being ribbed.”

“Whatever makes you say that?” His grin broadened. “Come on, Jean, give the guy a break. You piqued his interest in education.”

Jean also wondered if she’d stirred up other interests, and she didn’t have long to find out.

 

“I didn’t know you were this professional, Miss Harnett,” Cramer was saying to her early the next morning in his office.

“Well, education of our children does come first, doesn’t it?”

“I agree. It is the most urgent thing in our American society.”

She looked at the fire in his eyes. Good Lord, he believes all this stuff! This IS what he lives for!

“Well, I don’t know about it’s being the most urgent problem facing us,” she mumbled. “Think of crime in the streets, unwed mothers, unrest in the Middle East--”

“No, you’re right the first time! Children are the future of the world!” He paused for a calming breath. “I had no idea you felt so strongly on this subject. We’ll have to discuss it further. I have some professional journals I could lend you.”

“That sounds thrilling, Mr. Cramer,” she declared in the most enthusiastic voice she could muster. She had often heard of this species, the professional teacher, but she thought she would never see one.

He picked up a magazine off his desk. “There’s an article in here I want you to see. Glance over it. I’m anxious to hear your opinion about the theories it presents.”

He watched her face as she started the article. At last she knew what ‘turned him on,’ as the kids would say. But what a sacrifice! A dry educational article at 3 a.m.

Jean waded into the article and her college-trained mind started to categorize facts. She felt as if she were making a class report, but she knew she must know what she was talking about.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cramer. I can’t give this article my full attention right now. I’ll have to get back to you about it.”

“That’s fine. Maybe the next time at my mother’s.”

She eyed him. She never knew when he was teasing.

 

“I’m glad we went to see the Ice Capades, Paul, even if it has been a long drive,” Jean said as they sped through the late afternoon sunshine.

“Had you ever seen them before?”

“Once. About five years ago. We went all the way to Lansing, but it was worth it. How about you?”

“Twice, when I was in the service. I saw the Harlem Globe Trotters, too.”

“I love watching them! Especially that Meadowlark Lemon!”

“He is a card, isn’t he? They’re going to be in Des Moines next month. Want to go with me?”

“Sure! I’d love to! It’s a date.”

The prospect of an official date hung between them. They’d both been unconsciously trying to keep the situation between themselves light, and now they realized how hard they’d been working at it. 

A crossroads appeared ahead, and Paul read the signboard.

“Canton, fifteen miles west of here. That’s your hometown, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Where are you going?!” she demanded as he swerved the car sharply to the right.

“To Canton. It’s about time I met your parents. Let them see who their daughter is traveling halfway across the state with.” He glanced at her. “Will they mind an unexpected visit?”

Jean laughed. “Heavens, no! They’ll love it.”

 

And they did. Frank and Louise Harnett took to Paul as if he were a long lost friend.

“Sit down here, Paul,” Frank invited. “I’ve got the Bulls’ game on.”

Paul sat up with interest. “Really? How are they doing?”

“They’re losing. They can’t seem to connect today.”

“Turn off the TV, Frank, so we can visit.”

Both men looked at Louise with disappointment on their faces.

“Okay, leave it on. Jean and I will just go into the kitchen. You two can stay for supper, can’t you?”

Jean and Paul exchanged glances.

“I suppose,” Jean answered. “It’s up to Paul.”

“I’d really love to see the rest of this ball game.”

“Then it’s settled,” Louise declared. “By the time the game’s over, supper will be ready. I’m afraid it’s just pot luck, though.”

“Pot luck always tastes good, Mrs. Harnett.”

“Good. Come along, Jean. They won’t even miss us.”

Out in the kitchen, Louise handed Jean a small dish of sliced roast pork. “Here. Dice this up and we’ll heat it in a tangy white sauce. Then we’ll boil some rice to go under it. There’s baked crooked necked squash and fruit salad in the fridge.”

“And cookies somewhere, I imagine?”

“Brownies in the cabinet.”

“Oh, those sound good! Paul will fall in love with you.”

“It looks like I’d have to stand in line. Paul seems quite fond of you.”

“I know,” Jean said with a conspirator’s gleam in her eyes. “I think he’s pretty special, too.”

“Cramer. Wasn’t that the name of the young man who took your father and me on that impromptu tour of Woodstock High? Are they related?”

“They’re brothers. And about as different as night and day.”

“Paul seems nothing like the man we met in September. Paul’s taller and a whole lot friendlier.”

“That’s right.” 

“His brother seemed so serious. He was polite and gracious, but not very personable. This Paul is a dream.”

Jean grinned. “You’re telling me! Here, the pork is ready. Where’s Brenna?”

“Over at Susan’s. She’s getting a home perm.”

“We’ll probably be gone by the time she gets home. Say ‘Hi’ for me.”

 

“That dinner was delicious, Mrs. Harnett.”

“Thank you. Jean’s a good cook, too. She’s learned everything she knows about cooking from me.”

Jean nudged her mother’s foot. Such blatant praise was embarrassing.

“Then she must be an excellent cook, too,” Paul said with a grin. He knew exactly what Louise was doing.

“Their cooking is what gave me this spare tire around my belly,” Frank said. Then he said “Oof!” as Jean kicked his leg not too gently.

Paul’s grin deepened. He liked this family very much.

 

Jean and Louise were doing the dishes when the phone rang. Louise dried her hands, but the phone stopped ringing. “Maybe your father picked it up.”

A moment later, Frank stuck his head into the kitchen. “That was Brenna. She said it’s snowing goose feathers outside. She said she’d probably stay at Susan’s tonight.”

“Snowing? That hard?” Jean laid down her towel and shoved back a Cape Cod curtain. “Yipes! She’s right. Someone’s ripping open all the feather beds in Heaven and dumping them right on us. Paul,” she said as she pushed through the swinging door into the living room, “did you know it was snowing hard?”

“I just heard. I looked out the front door. My car is covered. Was this in the forecast?”

“Not that I remember. You know how well weathermen can predict. Anybody could do as well. Even I. ‘Good evening, folks. This is Happy Harry, your friendly forecaster. The marlin are biting in Florida, and the mosquitoes are ripping out chunks of flesh from campers in South America. Don’t forget to join the Early Bird tour to Arizona leaving next month. It’s warm down there this time of year. Elsewhere, it’s raining in the Cascades and it isn’t in the Ozarks. As far as our weather goes, there’s a chance of snow with possible clearing skies. Now, on to important matters--’ Was that the same guy you heard?”

Paul was grinning. “Probably. He sounds familiar.” He sobered. “I’m afraid I can’t get you back to Woodstock tonight, Jean.”

“It’s not your fault. If the weathermen didn’t know about this storm, how could you?”

“I’ll have to call my mother so she won’t worry.” He glanced at Jean. “And you’ll have to report to your principal that you won’t be at work tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, dear!” Jean chewed her lip. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“Luckily, the call goes to the same household.” He studied Jean’s worried face. “Or is that not so lucky?”

“I’d welcome a call to almost anybody else. And I don’t mean your mother.”

“Come on, Jean. Even Bob knows you’re not responsible for the weather.”

“I don’t know about that. He thinks I’ve got some perverse control that I shouldn’t possess.”

“What?! Surely you don’t mean that!”

Jean wrung her hands. “Well, odd things do, ah, happen, sometimes, when I’m around. Especially to him. I can’t explain it. It just somehow, ah, does!”

“May I use your phone?”

“Sure. We’ll use the phone in the hallway.”

Alida answered on the second ring. “Paul?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Alida exhaled loudly, then said with her mouth turned aside, “Yes, dear. It’s Paul.” Then she turned back to the telephone. “Where are you? Are you all right?”

“We’re at Jean’s folks’ home in Canton. We’re okay.”

“Thank Heaven! They’re with Jean’s parents, Bob.”

Paul heard the relief in her voice. He also heard, but couldn’t understand, Bob in the background. He didn’t want to know what Bob was saying. The tone was angry enough.

“Is it snowing at Woodstock, Mother?”

“Yes, it started about three o’clock. It’s lucky you stopped when you did. You would’ve driven right into it and might’ve gotten stranded out on the highway. It’s a fast moving storm headed your way.”

“I saw clouds on the horizon ahead of us, but I didn’t pay them any attention.” He glanced at Jean. “Put Bob on, would you? Jean wants to talk to him. Well, perhaps ‘wants’ is the wrong verb. ‘Has’ would be more accurate.”

He handed the phone to Jean who was in time to hear Alida say, “Here, Bob.”

“What do you mean by endangering Miss Harnett?!” Robert Cramer thundered.

“This IS Miss Harnett, Mr. Cramer.”

“Oh. I thought Paul was still on the line. Put him back on. I want to speak with him.”

“In a moment,” she said, trying not to think about the furious anger in his voice. She was certain that his voice had been filled with concern until he learned that they were safe, then his relief was mirrored by his anger. “I need to inform you officially that I won’t be able to make it to school in the morning.”

“I know that! Where’s Paul?!”

“Please don’t blame him. I know it will be difficult to find a substitute on such short notice--”

“That’s not the problem! Now, stop explaining! We thought you were in a ditch somewhere, freezing to death!”

“But we’re not. We’re safe. Thank you for worrying. And I’m sorry that it happened. But it was probably better that we stopped when we did. Please don’t blame Paul. We are safe with my parents.”

“Okay.” He sounded calmer. “Let me talk to him.”

She handed the phone to Paul. “Good luck,” she whispered.

“Yes, Bob? Okay, we will. Good advice. Yes, we certainly will. Goodbye. Oh. Say goodbye to Mother for me. Thanks. Bye.” He hung up.

“What did he say?”

Paul’s face had a look of amazement on it. “He cautioned me to drive carefully coming home. He said to make sure the highway was bladed open before we left Canton. And to fill the gas tank.” He smiled at her. “I think I need to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For defusing him. He doesn’t listen to a whole lot of people once he gets riled up. You probably saved me from one heck of a lecture.”

“He was worried about us.” But even as she said it, she remembered that Bob Cramer had feared for her safety, not Paul’s. How dedicated was he that he inquired only about a teacher and not about his own brother?

“Come on, Jean,” Louise said. “Let’s go change the sheets in the guest room. Then we’ll see if any of your father’s pajamas fit Paul.” She gave him a critical look. “Whatever we find, your ankles and wrists are bound to stick out, Paul.”

“Anything’s going to be comfortable, Mrs. Harnett. I’m just happy that Jean and I aren’t having to share some cold snow bank somewhere along the highway.”

 

Late the next morning, Paul parked in Jean’s driveway. “Well, here you are, safe and sound, at long last.” He grinned. “I know it sounds crazy, but I had fun.”

Jean returned the grin. “Me, too.”

“You have wonderful parents. They couldn’t have been more gracious. I felt right at home.”

“You were home.”

He picked up her hand and played with it. Then he glanced at her. “I know.”

“Walk me to the house?” she asked brightly.

The cold air quickly revived them.

“I feel like a schoolboy who’s skipped classes. It’s 11:30 in the morning, and I feel like we’re doing something naughty.”

“Me, too! Great, isn’t it, Paul?”

“I think it’s the company. You make anything fun.”

They walked up the sidewalk with their fingers entwined. At the door, Jean turned and smiled up at Paul. They shared a friendly kiss, then Jean turned to open her apartment door.

But Paul hadn’t released her hand, and Jean turned with a questioning look on face. Paul pulled her back into his arms and really kissed her.

They were both breathless when they broke the kiss.

“Jean,” he whispered against her ear. “I think I like you more than I should.”

“Paul, it’s all right,” she whispered back. “I like you, too.”

“Your neighbors will be thoroughly shocked. I can just hear them now. There’s that Harnett woman, necking in broad daylight.”

“They’ll just be showing how jealous they are,” Jean murmured, then sought out his lips again.

Across the street, a parlor curtain fluttered as it was opened a crack by an unseen hand. Imagine that! Necking in broad daylight!

 

Robert Cramer walked into Jean’s classroom the next day during her free hour.

“Good morning, Mr. Cramer.”

“Good morning, Miss Harnett. You look no worse for wear after your little ordeal over the weekend.”

“I revive fast, Mr. Cramer. And I wanted to thank you for your concern. I appreciated it.”

“It’s no more than I’d do for anyone on my staff.”

That stung a little. 

“Well, since you seem to have everything back under your capable control, I’ll leave you to your work. Good day,” he said as he turned to go.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Bob,” she hissed. “Stop acting that way!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Stop treating me like I was just ‘anyone on your staff.’ I may well wind up being your sister-in-law!”

He blinked.

“And another thing, why weren’t you concerned about Paul?”

Cramer drew himself up. “He can take care of himself.”

“Not if he has fifteen feet of snow on top of him!”

“But he didn’t.”

She drew her breath in to retort, but he spoke first.

“Paul is three years older than I am. When I was growing up, he was Superman and the Lone Ranger all rolled up into one for me. There’s nothing my big brother can’t do if he tries. Simply nothing.”

“Except make you love him as an equal.”

Cramer blinked again.

“Oh, Bob, he isn’t Superman or the Lone Ranger. He’s just a person with faults and doubts, just like the rest of us. That friendly, easy-going front of his sometimes takes a lot of courage to have. He’s not infallible. Stop being jealous of him.”

“Jealous?!”

“Yes. You’ve put him somewhere between hero worship and jealousy, and all he really wants is to be your brother You’ve always thought of Paul as strong and cheerful and not needing anyone’s help. Well, I’ve seen a man so hurt by love that he’s bleeding inside. Elise really cut him up, and you’re doing little to support him.”

“Now, wait a minute--”

“You’re going to hear the truth! Paul is floundering with indecision. He doesn’t know if he should go back to school or get a job. He needs someone to talk to, but I can only go so far. He needs your advice, if you’d only get off your high horse long enough to listen to him for once.”

“Must I remind you that you’re talking to your principal?!”

“No, Mr. Cramer, right at the moment, I’m speaking to the brother of the man I’m dating. In a minute, we may slide back into our professional relationship, and then you’ll be free to go back into hiding.”

“Hiding?!”

“That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? You’re afraid to meet the world without your protection.”

“Afraid?!”  
“Oh, Bob, sto  
p being so hard on yourself. Trust people. Let the world see the real you. There’s a nice person inside you somewhere. I just know there is. Your mother and brother are too nice for you not to be related to them. Let that person out. Relax. Enjoy life. It really is a great life, you know. I know you’d enjoy it if you’d just let yourself.”

“I have no need to be psychoanalyzed so early in the morning!” He hurried toward the classroom door, but paused and looked back. His eyes were blazing blue fire. “While we’re inside this building, my name is Mr. Cramer. Please remember that! At least, give me that professional courtesy!” He whipped out of the room and slammed the door.

Jean blinked. She never figured him for a door slammer. She thought he’d have more control over himself than that. He must really be mad.

Why had she picked a fight with him? He was her boss, and he could make life a living hell for her.

 

At noon Cramer deliberately sat at the far end of the faculty table instead of taking the last available seat on the more easily accessible side, but that seat happened to be next to Jean. She glanced at Craig who sat on her other side.

Craig raised an eyebrow. “What’s got Von Cramer ticked off?” When Jean didn’t answer, Craig continued, “I’ve got a hunch you’re behind it.”

“Me?!”

“One thing you aren’t is an actress. You’re much too open to be deceitful. No, I met Cramer in the hall once this morning between classes, and there might as well have been a whole line of ten-penny nails broken in two behind him. He’s mad about something, that‘s for certain. Jean, if you two had a run-in, get it straightened out. Something like this could disrupt the whole school.”

She touched his arm and leaned toward him. “You’re right.” 

As she straightened, she saw Cramer glaring at her and withdrew her hand from Craig’s arm. Then her back stiffened in defiance and she clamped her hand back onto Craig’s wrist. Startled, Craig looked at her to see why she had slapped him. Jean threw him a dazzling smile that blinded him so much he turned away only to see Cramer glaring at them. Jean was deliberately nettling Cramer.

Craig looked back at Jean who was trying hard to maintain her brilliant smile. Craig rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly.

 

The last school bus left, and Jean steeled herself as she marched toward the principal’s office.

“Mr. Cramer?”

Cramer looked up and tried to make his face look blank, but anger pulled down the corners of his mouth. “Yes?”

Jean took a deep breath. “Mr. Cramer, I’ve come to apologize. I spoke out of turn and I’m sincerely sorry.”

Cramer seemed to consider. “Come in and close the door.”

“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jean--”

“We’re still inside the school building.”

He rubbed a hand over his thinning hair. “I’m sorry for that crack.”

“But you were right.”

“Won’t you at least sit down? Please?”

“All right. Thank you.” She perched primly on the edge of the wooden chair.

Cramer would’ve had to possess the sensitivity of the wooden chair to have missed Jean’s hostility. “Look, you and I are in the middle of a unique situation here. In some circles, we’re equals. But here at school, I’m your administrator. Other people have handled it. I think we can, also.”

“Of course.”

“Look, I’ve never had a sister before. Let me have a chance to get used to the idea, okay?”

Jean let out her breath in a rush. “What a relief! I’m not made for intrigue.”

Cramer gave her a weary smile. “Me, neither. And I will consider what you said about Paul.”

“I had no right--”

“Maybe not. But something’s wrong between him and me.” A grin slowly crept across his face.

“What’s so amusing?”

“Boy, if Paul marries you, he’ll get a bodyguard as well as a wife.”

Jean nodded her head. “That’s right!”

“And you’re sure he needs your protection?”

Jean started to sputter, then saw that he was baiting her, just like a brother would tease a kid sister. They both knew she would protect Paul, whether he needed it or not. She grinned back at Robert Cramer.

“I guess I need some time to get used to you being my brother.”

He could smile warmly when he wanted to, and he must‘ve decided that he wanted to at that point.

“I’ll see to it that Paul and I spend more time together.”

“That would be great!”

“Maybe I’ll even take him rabbit hunting with me sometime. Does that meet with your approval?”

Jean beamed. “That’s a start!”

Not until she was walking toward her car did she begin to wonder if Robert Cramer was the rabbit hunter that she and Paul had seen when they were ice skating out at the farm. If the hunter had been Robert Cramer, she wondered how dry and off-beat his humor could get.

 

A few days later, Craig hailed Jean in the school hallway. “Hey, Jean, Adair is looking for you.”

“Thanks, Craig. Where is he?”

“Up in the Control Room. Von Cramer is with him, looking dour as ever.”

“Sour, you say? Now, I wonder what I’ve done to be summoned by the entire administration?”

She soon found out.

“Ah, Miss Harnett! I’m glad you dropped in. I’ve been looking for you.”

“I told you that I’m a mind reader, Mr. Adair.”

“Then maybe you can tell me why I wanted to see you.”

She put her fingers to her temples and closed her eyes. “You want Mr. Cramer and me to do something for you. It’s some sort of committee work, something to do with education.”

“Amazing!” Adair said.

Jean opened her eyes and knew by the startled look on Cramer’s face that she had been close to the truth. She shrugged inwardly. Cramer was already with Adair, so it must involve Jean and Cramer. And all of their careers concerned education. What was so amazing about her conclusions? It was just a matter of deductive reasoning.

Adair’s eyes glowed with enthusiasm. “I won’t keep you in suspense, Miss Harnett. I have appointed you and Mr. Cramer to attend weekly teacher meetings at the county level. They will last ten weeks, starting the first part of February through most of April.”

A sinking feeling hit Jean’s chest. “Are we the only ones attending from Woodstock?”

“That’s right. When this set of meetings was proposed, I knew my first unanimous choice would be my principal. After all, he’s the most professional teacher in our system. My problem was what other staff member was that professional, also. Then Mr. Cramer told me about your enthusiasm about education, and I knew I had found my team. Both of you are going to represent our school so well. I just know it.”

Cramer looked uncomfortable, and Jean didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. She would much rather be spending those evenings with Paul, not with his dry, humorless brother. But what saved her was knowing that Cramer hadn’t willingly chosen her for company, either. But he had nobody to blame but himself. Jean sighed. It was going to be a mighty long ten weeks.

 

Jean huddled in Paul’s car, grateful for the heater’s warmth. “It looks like everyone is headed for the Bijou Theater for their Wednesday night date. They don’t care if the movie is a couple of years old, at least it’s something to do in the middle of the week without leaving town.”

Paul gave Jean a lazy grin. The lights along Main Street played on his face as he drove. “I guess that makes us just part of the herd.”

“Well, it is a school night, for teachers as well as for students. None of us can stay out too late.”

“That’s what I get for dating a teacher,” he grumbled with good nature.

“Oh, you!”

“Now, tell me more about all this time you’re going to be spending with my lucky brother.”

“You have nothing to worry about. Believe me.”

“Don’t I? He’s already stolen one of my girls.”

“Are you suggesting that he could?! That I would?!” She crossed her arms and flung herself back against the seat. “That’s impossible!”

“You’ll be alone. Just the two of you. At night. For many nights.”

Jean straightened with interest and studied him. “Are you jealous?!”

Paul bit his lips together. “Probably.”

Suddenly Jean looked past Paul and then craned her head back over his shoulder. “Was that Elise with your brother?”

Paul’s frown deepened. “Probably.”

“But they’re not headed for the Bijou.”

Paul negotiated a turn and headed for a parking place. “Oh, they’ve got some hot date in Springfield tonight. Bob was whistling-- Whistling! --as he was getting ready.”

 

All through most of the showing of ‘The Glass-Bottomed Boat’ at the Bijou, Jean had the feeling that Paul was seeing little of the movie. And he was quiet as he drove Jean back to her apartment.

“Debbie Reynolds was pretty funny tonight,” Jean commented.

“As always,” Paul agreed.

Jean paused for a long moment. “Paul, the movie we saw starred Doris Day.”

He sighed. “Sorry. Sometimes they all look alike.”

“I expect you’re one of those guys who likes only Westerns. If you didn’t want to see a romantic comedy, you should’ve said so.”

“It’s not that, honey. I love romantic comedies. It puts women in the mood. But I guess it was the romantic part that stuck in my throat.” Paul parked in Jean’s driveway and cut the engine. 

The couple sat for some moments in the quiet.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been very much fun tonight, Jean.”

She rubbed his nearest hand grasping the steering wheel. “Feel like talking about it?”

He turned suffering eyes on her. “You probably know what I’m going to say.”

She straightened and stared out of the windshield into the night. “How come I feel like I’m going to get a Dear John letter?”

“I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, Jean. You’ve become very precious to me. I value your friendship highly, but--”

“But?” she prompted.

He lowered his head.

“But seeing Elise Ott tonight made you realize that you were still in love with her.”

He sighed deeply. “That’s about it, sweetheart. Except it isn’t just tonight. I’ve been thinking a lot about her lately and feeling like I’m being a heel to you. And I keep thinking about her and Bob together and what they could be doing right now.”

“If I know your brother, he is being the perfect gentleman.”

“Don’t fool yourself. They were in the same graduation class. Bob always did have something of a thing for her. More than what you‘ve probably heard about.”

Jean frowned. “Really?” She couldn’t quite imagine Robert Cramer as a suitor for some girl’s affections. Now that she thought of him, though, he did have a good physique probably disciplined by school athletics. And there as a certain appeal to him when he could be charmed into a smile. And he was gracious and gentlemanly and--

“Jean?”

“Hmm?”

“Where did you go?”

“Sorry. You were saying about your brother?”

“He wouldn’t hurt me, but he probably thinks the field is clear for him. Elise might’ve even wrangled a date with him to get me jealous. If she did, it’s working.”

“Maybe she’s finally becoming interested in him.”

“Could be. Or maybe she’s just trying to get back in circulation, and Bob’s being a good friend to help her. If so, she probably wouldn’t be interested in me anymore. But if she’s just using Bob to hurt me, Bob’s going to get hurt, too. He really likes her.”

“And maybe all of this is part of the truth. But the situation can’t continue. I think you better talk to Elise before four people get hurt any further.”

He glanced at her. “I think you’re right.” He squeezed her hand. “I may be back at your doorstep.”

She grinned. “I wouldn’t turn you away.”

“You’re one in a million. Some guy’s going to be very lucky.” He gently touched her face. “Oh, why couldn’t you have been the one?” he whispered.

She shrugged gamely. “No argument there.”

“You’re special,” he murmured. “And maybe you really are the one.”

But she noticed that his goodnight kiss was simply brotherly. Something was changed in their relationship that would probably never be the same again.

 

Jean drove back to Woodstock late that Sunday evening. She’d felt disconnected all weekend, and not even the company of her family could snap her out of her stupor. Her emotions always lay too close to the surface, and her family knew something was bothering her. They also knew she wanted advice only when asked, so they didn’t pry.

Zoe wasn’t home yet, but Mrs. Doubleday was. Her eyes seemed guarded when Jean went in to say ‘Hi.’

“Is something wrong?” Jean demanded, immediately alarmed. “Did something happen to Zoe?”

“Zoe’s fine, as far as I know.” Iris wrung her hands. “Oh, Jean, I don’t know how to tell you this, except straight out. Elise Ott eloped with Paul Cramer Friday night.”

“Oh,” Jean muttered and felt her world tilt sideways. She dropped, rather than sat, in a chair.

Mrs. D.’s eyes shared Jean’s pain. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I thought you should know.”

“You’re right,” Jean answered in hollow voice. So this was how Paul decided to ‘talk’ to Elise. Jean cleared her throat. “Somehow, I’m not surprised. I knew he wasn’t over her. I wish them all the best.”

“They’re living in Elise’s apartment. At least you won’t be running into him all the time here in town.”

Jean pulled herself to her feet. “I have to get unpacked. Tomorrow is a school day.” She frowned and sat back down. “Poor Mr. Cramer! He was dating Elise.”

“It won’t be easy for either of you. Maybe you can help each other.”

“If he allows it. Thanks for your sympathy. I appreciate it. Everyone will feel sorry for Mr. Cramer, too. They’ll want to help, to show how sorry they are, and all he will want is anonymity. He’ll have a rough day tomorrow.”

“Bob Cramer will know how to take it. He’s tough.” Iris frowned. “I’ve always felt sorry for him. He never relaxes. I don’t remember him that way when he was a child. He and my son Carlton were good friends. Somewhere over the years, Bob became too serious for his own good. Now he seems to be hiding behind some front.”

“I’ve heard that teaching does that to some people,” Jean muttered, almost to herself. She drew herself back to the present. “Well, front or not, he’ll still be feeling badly enough tomorrow. Even he can’t insulate himself that well.”

“Maybe you’ll be helping him?” 

“He is a colleague of mine. I’m obligated to give him my support.”

“My, don’t you sound professional,” Zoe said from the door. “Who rates such a vote of confidence from you?”

“Robert Cramer.”

Zoe frowned and took a step into the room. “What’s happened?”

Jean pursed her lips. “Oh, Zoe, Elise Ott eloped with Paul Cramer.”

“Which Cramer?” Zoe asked as she sat down heavily. “But I’m confused. I thought Miss Hotsy was dating our illustrious principal.”

“She was, up until Friday night.”

“Oh, boy. I bet Bobsy Cramer is really suffering about now. Serves him right. Maybe now he knows how us mortals feel when we get jilted.”

“Zoe, that’s not nice.”

“Maybe not, but I happen to think that it’s delicious. But I feel sorry for your sake.”

Jean smiled sadly. “Thanks. I appreciate your support. I’ll need it.” 

Jean knew that she would cry. She knew that she would mourn the loss of Paul as a sweetheart, but she hoped that somehow they could stay friends. As for Robert Cramer, she hoped that he would be willing to talk to her. She sensed that he needed to confide in someone, and who would be more logical than the other person who had been jilted by that weekend elopement?

 

But the next day at school, Robert Cramer talked to no one, not even Jean.

“How are you doing, Jean?” Craig asked at lunch in the cafeteria.

“I’ll make it. But I’m worried about him.” Jean nodded across the table to where Robert Cramer sat, shoveling potato soup into his mouth.

“He’ll make it, too,” Craig said grimly. “He won’t let anybody help. He‘ll just sit there and suffer grandly.”

Jean glanced at Craig with a question on her face. “You tried?”

“I thought I’d give him some support, but he scurried away into that little rabbit hole he calls an office.”

“Give him time. He probably doesn’t know who his enemies are on this one. He might even think we’re having a hoot at his expense.”

“Except you. He knows you’re hurting, too.” Craig frowned. “What sort of insensitive clods does he think we are?”

“He doesn’t inspire sympathy, that’s for sure. He’s not used to asking for help.”

“Have you said anything to him?”

“I haven’t been brave enough. I haven’t sorted out my feelings yet, either.”

“There goes the bell. Well, back to the chain gang,” Craig said as he stood.

Jean stood, also. “See you at the cafe after school?”

“Yup. We have to eat an early supper if we want to make it to that basketball game. It’s so far away.”

“See you then,” she called as Craig disappeared into a mass of students. She glanced around for Cramer, but he’d already let the table, too. There was nothing left for her to do but head for her classroom.

 

“We’re going to meet Craig and Brian, then go straight to the game after eating. I don’t see Craig’s car here yet, though,” Jean said as she and Zoe walked toward the cafe. She stopped. “Oh, no! Mrs. Braun has Mr. Cramer cornered. She’s the biggest snoop in town. I hope she’s not asking him about Paul’s elopement.”

When they approached, they could see Cramer’s red face and hear Mrs. Braun’s tirade.

“So, what are Paul and Elise’s plans now?”

“I, ah, really don’t know. They haven’t said yet. I doubt if they know themselves. That is, I’m sure they know. Perhaps they’re not ready to share their plans with the rest of us yet.”

Jean and Zoe exchanged glances. Jean heard a car door and saw Craig and Brian approaching as if on cue.

Jean stepped forward and brushed Cramer’s arm. Cramer glanced around and seemed relieved to see her. He probably would’ve been grateful for any interruption.

“So, Mr. Cramer, you beat us here!” Jean gushed.

Cramer and Mrs. Braun both looked at her in surprise.

Jean smiled gaily at Mrs. Braun. “We’re all having supper together before leaving for the game!”

Cramer looked behind Jean and saw Craig, Brian, and Zoe glaring at Mrs. Braun. They all stepped forward to surround Cramer.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your friends, Robert,” Mrs. Braun said with a sniff.

Jean’s smile was dazzling. “I knew you’d understand, Mrs. Braun! You have a wonderful evening now,” Jean said brightly. “Excuse us!” She grabbed Cramer’s arm and steered him into the cafe.

The other three teachers followed, leaving Mrs. Braun gaping on the sidewalk.

“Well, I never!” She looked around quickly to see if anyone had witnessed her humiliation.

Safely inside the cafe, Cramer stopped and looked at his staff. “Thank you for rescuing me. I couldn’t get away from her.”

“You were too much of a gentleman to play by her rules, which is a shame because rudeness is the only thing she respects. Oh, I’ll give your arm back now.” Jean untangled her hand as everyone gave an embarrassed little laugh. “I didn’t mean to grapple you like that.”

“That’s all right, Miss Harnett. I can’t say how much your support means to me. I can’t thank you all enough.”

“We all need friends to back us up once in awhile,” Jean answered.

Cramer glanced at each one in turn. “I know that now. Thanks, again.”

“You’re welcome to have Made Rites and French fries with us,” Zoe said.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have a pile of work waiting for me back at school.”

“Mrs. Braun might still be out there,” Craig said.

“I’ll check.” Cramer looked out the window. “It looks safe.” He glanced back at his three rescuers and seemed at a loss for words.

“See you at school tomorrow, Mr. Cramer,” Zoe said.

“Let us know if any more dragons cross your path,” Brian offered with a rare smile.

Cramer grinned. “I will.” He nodded his head, then ducked out of the cafe.

“Poor, dumb jerk,” Brian muttered and summed up the feelings of everyone. “You gotta feel sorry for him.”

“Is that a tear in your eye, Landis?”

“It should be,” he answered, not taking her bait. “Come on, Red,” he said, taking her arm. “Let’s eat, and get some fun back into this party.”

But it was a long time before they were able to do that.

 

“Poor Mr. Cramer! I felt so sorry for him tonight!”

“Don’t sell him short, Jean,” Zoe said as she got ready for bed. “I think he has a lot more grit to him than any of us have realized.”

Jean heard the respect in Zoe’s voice and considered what Zoe had said. “You’re right,” she said at last. “It must take a lot of courage to keep quiet.”

“Except when something’s important, and then I bet we can hear from him. Loud and clear!”


	6. February

“Oh, Zoe, I don’t know if I can do this! Mr. Cramer is going to pick me up in a few minutes to go to that county educational meeting, and I don’t know if I can spend the whole evening with him. I’m afraid anything I say will remind him of Paul and Elise and their elopement.”

“If it’s any help, I expect he’s going to be worried about upsetting you, too.” Zoe saw Jean’s look of concern deepen. “I know. It’s easy for me to talk. I don’t have to go through tonight. One thing, though, you’ll both be in the same boat.”

A knock sounded on their front door.

Jean gasped. “He’s here!”

“Don’t worry,” Zoe advised in a stage whisper. “It’ll be okay.”

“My coat!” Jean ran for the bedroom.

Shaking her head, Zoe hurried to answer the door. “Good evening, Mr. Cramer. Won’t you come in?”

“Only for a moment, Miss Bergetti.” He stepped inside. “I’ve come to pick up Miss Harnett. Is she ready?”

“She’s getting her coat.”

Cramer glanced around the living room. “You have a nice apartment. It looks very cozy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cramer.”

They could both hear Jean muttering as she struggled with something. Zoe shrugged and Cramer looked puzzled.

Cramer nodded toward the sound. “That used to be Carlton Doubleday’s bedroom.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve spent many a night with Candy in that bedroom,” he said as Jean stepped, slightly ruffled, out of it.

Jean, of course, had not heard Cramer’s first sentence, only his second. She stopped dead in her tracks and blushed hard.

In the dead silence that followed, everyone stared at each other with wide eyes.

Zoe cleared her throat at last and tried to keep from laughing. “Uh, Candy, of course, must have been, uh, a nickname for Carlton Doubleday, I suppose?”

“Of course!” Cramer asserted.

Zoe turned aside, afraid she’d laugh. Jean was on her own. “Jean, I’ll see you later. I hope you both have an instructive evening.” When she could face them again without laughing, she turned. They both looked like they’d give her anything if she’d only go along with them. For their sake, she tried to keep a straight face. “You better leave now. Otherwise, you’ll be late.”

“Of course. Good evening, Mr. Cramer,” Jean greeted with a twist of her shoulders. “How are you?”

“Good evening, Miss Harnett. I’m fine.” He frowned. “Are you having some trouble with your coat?”

“Oh, it seems to have developed a life of its own. I swear, one sleeve has tried to grow shut, and this collar is trying to strangle me.”

“Stand still. I’ll try to help.” Cramer straightened her coat collar. “Better?”

“It’s a miracle, doctor! How are you on sleeves?”

“That’s not my specialty. Just collars.”

Jean looked at him sharply. Him, and his dry sense of humor! “Uh, I suppose we best leave now.” As she passed Zoe, she shot her a severe look. Zoe’s eyes were definitely twinkling.

With the door safely shut, Zoe began to laugh.

Out on the porch, Cramer turned to Jean. “Is Miss Bergetti calling us back?”

“No,” Jean mumbled as she stepped off the porch. “Miss Bergetti isn’t calling.”

Cramer gave the apartment door one final puzzled glance and followed Jean.

 

When they started down the street, they forgot Zoe as the specter of Paul and Elise arose between them and threatened to fill the car.

As he pulled onto the highway, Cramer spoke at last. “I hope we continue to have good weather for these meetings.”

“It would be a blessing, wouldn’t it?” The idea of sharing several weeks of small talk with Cramer sounded terribly boring to Jean. Her eyes began to glaze over.

“I suppose we should talk about Paul and Elise so we can go on to something else.”

Jean’s eyes cleared. “All right,” she mumbled.

He shot her a glance. “If you rather wouldn’t--” He sounded hopeful.

“No, we need to discuss it, no matter how much it hurts.”

Cramer pursed his lips and stared at the road. “I don’t know how far you and Paul had gotten, but Elise and I were just at the best pal stage. I, ah, could’ve been further along, but I knew she was holding back. You and Paul seemed pretty serious.”

“I was. But like you said, he wasn’t committing himself completely. He’d been terribly hurt by the fight he’d had with Elise and was using me as a refuge.”

That’s the way it was with Elise, too.” He glanced at her with sympathy, but anger against Paul was reflected, also. “Were you in love with him?”

Jean bit her lips. “Close. I was close.” She glanced at him. “But I can’t be angry for what they did. They’re happy now, and they really weren’t happy with us. You and I have to realize it was all for the best.”

“But he hurt you!”

She reached over and placed her left hand over his right as it held the steering wheel. “And Elise hurt you,” she murmured. She withdrew her hand. “But hurting us wasn’t what they set out to do. We must be generous with what happened and be happy for them. I’m not surprised that they got back together. The elopement stunned me, but not the reconciliation. I, ah, I sent him to her.”

“You, what?!” Cramer braked hard and the car slid a little on the icy road. He put the car and turned on Jean. Luckily no one was coming, because Cramer was interested only in Jean. “You knew something like this could happen?!”

“I knew Paul wasn’t happy. He appreciated my friendship, but he wasn’t committing himself fully to me. I thought it best that he clean up his emotional trash with Elise, one way or the other.” She stared at his glaring face. “It was the only fair thing to all four of us.”

Cramer glanced in the rearview mirror, saw approaching headlights, and put his car in gear. “You’re right, I suppose,” he conceded as they started down the road again.

“The only thing that really bothers me is that you and Paul are further apart than ever.”

“Actually, no. His marriage has changed his status. He has created a new family. And although he’ll always be my brother, he is now Elise’s husband.”

“As long as you’re comfortable with each other.”

“Oddly, we are. A lot of the rivalry is gone.” He glanced at her. “I was worried about you.”

She smiled warmly. “And I, you.”

“I think we should put this all behind us. And I, ah, think we should go back to a more professional relationship between us.”

“Last name basis?”

“That’d be a good start.” He drove on in silence for a few minutes. “I think I would’ve liked you for a sister.”

Her eyes misted. “And I could’ve used you for a big brother. Sometimes it’s difficult being the older sibling.”

“I suppose it has been for Paul, although I’ve never thought so. I’ve always been concerned about the middle child because I am one.”

She glanced at him. “Are you the neurotic one? The one with no identity?”

He grinned. “I hope I’m no stereotype of the middle child.”

But you are, she thought, then decided to change the subject. “What’s your younger brother like?”

“Jerry? The Campus Clown, I guess you could call him. Everybody likes Jerry. He’s supposed to be studying history down at State, and he better be if he wants to keep his scholarship. He’s book smart, but it’s hard keeping him on track. I’m sure he’d rather party. That, plus his charm, makes him a discipline problem.”

“He sounds like fun.”

“You’d like him. There isn’t a serious bone in his lanky body.”

“You claimed them all, I suppose.”

He gave her a sharp look and said in a defensive tone, “I can be funny.”

“Oh, yeah, let’s see you.”

“Maybe I don’t choose to be this evening,” he said with an arrogant huff.

“And maybe you’re being funny right now by acting serious.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

She huffed. “Your humor is too subtle for me, Mr. Cramer.”

“But you admit that it’s there.”

“I have to admit that it’s there; yes.”

The car was quiet for a long moment.

“My door will be open if you ever want to talk about your relationship with Paul.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cramer. And I extend the same invitation to you.”

He sighed as he settled against the seat. “Now that we have that out of the way, we can concentrate on what we’re really supposed to be doing this evening. I have high expectations of being enlightened at this meeting.”

Jean just hoped she wasn’t wasting the evening.

 

In a way it was a relief to turn her back on the whirlwind courtship she and Paul had shared. In fact she tried to sever all ties with the Cramer family, except the necessary one of seeing Robert Cramer at school. Jean called Alida and canceled an appearance she should’ve made at a club meeting with Alida. She hoped Alida assumed she was hurt over Paul and couldn’t face her. Maybe Jean was. All she knew was that she wanted to move on with her life.

With a contented sigh, she re-discovered all sorts of interests she had abandon since she had met Paul. She checked out ‘Brothers Karamazov’ from the school library and plunged into it with determination. It was the perfect winter read.

Zoe gave her and the book a funny look and asked, “Why?”

“Because I’ve never read it,” Jean answered from the depths of the overstuffed chair.

“But why that old thing? There’s lots of new books out there. I understand that Erich Segal’s ‘Love Story’ is quite good.”

“That drippy thing?! It’s a romance. I’m not exactly interested in love stories right now, thank you.”

“This thing with Paul really hurt you, didn’t it?”

Jean stuck her index finger between the pages of the book to mark her place. “I wasn’t that involved with Paul.”

“Admit it, Jean, and maybe it’d help.”

Sudden tears bit at her eyelids. Where had they come from? “I could’ve married him, Zoe. No problem there. But it wasn’t meant to be. Now I need space and time. And understanding.”

“Quiet understanding? Okay, message received. I’ll give it to you.”

“Just as I have you,” Jean said gently.

Zoe looked at her sharply. “What do you mean by that?”

“I know that you cry at night. What’s wrong, honey?”

Zoe walked to the desk and absently moved a pencil around. “Restless, I guess. Spring must be in the air.”

“In February?!”

Zoe tossed the pencil across the desk. “Oh, that Brian Landis! Sometimes I could throttle him!”

“And other times?” Jean prompted gently.

Zoe looked at Jean with tears in her eyes. Her crooked smile threatened to break and release anguished sobs. “Other times, I wish we got along.”

“What happened?”

Zoe tilted her head back and tossed her russet locks. “Oh, it wasn’t much. Rather insignificant, really. One day last month he and I were leaving the schoolhouse. It was a beautiful winter day with the snow glistening and the sky was so clear and blue that it hurt. Brian looked up and studied a jet contrail. He got a dreamy look on his face and said softly, ‘The angels are painting with clouds again. Don’t they do beautiful work for us mortals?’ Then we slipped on the icy sidewalk and he grabbed my arm to keep me from falling. Neither thing he did was that great, but together they showed me a different side of Brian, someone who was tender and caring. I’ve been aware of him ever since, trying to find back that side of him. Up to that moment I hadn’t thought of him in a romantic way, now I can’t forget it.”

Jean smiled crookedly. “Told you so.”

“Darn it, I think you planted the seeds for it! Now what do I do? Forget it happened? He’s just as sarcastic as ever, if not worse. You and your rosy, romantic world!”

“And right now, I don’t want a thing to do with my rosy, romantic world. I just want to hide in anonymity. I’m jaded and you’re dewy-eyed. Funny, isn’t it?”

“It’s hilarious,” Zoe grumbled. “But that still doesn’t solve this problem with Brian.”

“It’ll work itself out. If you two were meant to get together, you will. If not, you’ll go your separate ways and eventually forget that you ever knew each other.”

“It sounds so simple when you say it.”

“That’s because I’m not in the middle of it like you are. I’m such an amateur to be handing out advice. Oh, Zoe, we’re not so far removed from these high school kids in age, or experience. We’re supposed to be life examples for them and counselors of situations that most of us are still going through ourselves. How can we tell them what to do when we’re still groping ourselves? We’re still discovering the opposite sex and trying to be attractive to the ones that interest us. What makes us think we know so much about this courtship game? We don’t. But the kids think we do. And generally we are ahead, at least by a few steps. We’ve all had our hearts broken, so we can try to help the kids through that experience. We care, and we’ll listen. Sometimes that’s all that’s important.”

Zoe smiled crookedly. “Like you’re listening now to me talking about Brian?”

“Oh, Zoe, I know he’s important to you. I knew it before either of you did, remember?”

“Yes, and I should’ve listened. But I thought that’s all our relationship would ever be, sort of a convoluted friendship.” She took a deep breath. “I never told you what happened over the Christmas holidays, did I? I’ve never really gotten over it, and I think it might be the cause of my present problem.”

Jean sat up with renewed interest. “No, you didn’t.”

“After you and Craig left town, Brian and I got to feeling pretty sorry for ourselves. Brian also had one mean hangover to nurse, but when that cleared up, he decided I shouldn’t be alone on Christmas Eve. I’d already left Woodstock, but he went to Springfield hunting for me. How he ever found me, I’ll never know. But suddenly there he was, walking across the shopping mall toward me. He steered me into a restaurant where we ate dinner, and then we went to a movie where we saw some frothy animal epic. We were practically by ourselves. When we came out, it was nearly midnight and I thought the evening was over until he pulled me into a Catholic church for midnight mass. I think the service got to both of us. It was so simple and beautiful that I felt like crying, and I think he did, too. After we left the church, we drove around, not talking much until we wound up at the airport. An airport in the dead of night is just that: dead. Against my protests, he bought me a ticket and shoved me on a plane to Laramie. all I had time to ask was what he was going to do over Christmas. He said that his Aunt Sophie out in Nebraska had asked him to come to her house for the holidays and he was headed that way as soon as I got out of his hair. That should’ve made me mad, but I felt like bawling. He must’ve seen my tears, because he suddenly got flustered, bundled me in his arms, and literally shoved me into the airplane. He took my car keys and told me to enjoy my visit with my uncle. I looked out the plane window at him standing on the tarmac. The sun was just coming up, and Brian looked so lonesome standing there. I think he thought I was going to bolt, because he mouthed one word, Nebraska, smiled, and waved. Then the plane turned and I lost sight of him. When I got back the next week, my car was waiting for me at the airport with a note stuck on the steering wheel saying, ‘Key at the desk. Happy New Year.’ I have no idea how he got my car to the airport. And when I paid him back the money for the ticket and tried to thank him, all he would allow me to say was ‘Happy New Year.’ Otherwise, he’s been as sarcastic as ever, until that day he grabbed my arm to keep me from falling.”

“So, it started at Christmas time.”

“Not really. We were just pals then. I don’t even know when it changed into something else--” She frowned. “--this new thing between us.”

“When he grabbed your arm and kept you from falling on ice. When he wouldn’t let you be alone at Christmas. When he caught you in his arms and wouldn’t let you fall off a hay wagon. When he tried to protect you from Frederick Lang. When he cussed you out for driving on bald tires. When he did so many countless things to show you he cared.”

“God! You’re a romantic!”

“Me?! He’s the romantic slob, not me! And you were just slow to catch on. But, apparently, not as slow as he is. He probably doesn’t even know it’s happening. He probably couldn’t do any better job of explaining it, either. Who can explain what attracts one person to another? I once heard of a young school librarian who fell for the high school principal when she saw him dressed out to play in a student-faculty basketball game. Up until then she’d thought he was a stuffed shirt; that night he seemed like a regular guy. Sexy, even. Honest! I know it sounds stupid. But there she was at the end of the basketball game with a full-blown crush on him, and he’d done nothing really to deserve her ardor. I couldn’t make stuff like this up. Love can be crazy, with the most illogical match-ups imaginable. Can you explain it any other way?”

Zoe shrugged. “That’s why I’m mixed up.” She grabbed the errant pencil and shoved it in the desk drawer. “That’s why I’ll probably return my contract unsigned.”

Jean blinked. She hadn’t considered that Zoe might leave at the end of the school year. “You’re leaving?!”

Zoe crossed her arms and began pacing. “I’m considering it.”

“You don’t seem too sure about it.”

Zoe stopped pacing and shot her arm up into the air. “How can I be?! How can I decide now what I want to be doing in September?!”

“From what I understand, teachers return contracts unsigned because they’ve decided what they DON’T want to be doing the following September. The future’s still up for grabs, but it’s got to be better than what they’re currently putting up with.”

Zoe folded her arms and began pacing again. “I like what I’m doing now, Jean. I like this town and the people I’m working with. I have no family or other choices like you do. This is my life. There isn’t very much for me outside Woodstock. I would really be tearing myself up if I left here. But I don’t know if I could work around Brian for another year, feeling the way I do and nothing romantic happening between us.”

“It might, and it might not. Your interest might die from lack of nourishment.”

“Right now, no. I’ve got enough interest for both of us. But I know that a move at the end of the school year would be better for me. Someone else might come along in a new town, and we’ll have a wonderful, fulfilling relationship. but I’d always wonder what a life with Brian would’ve been like.”

“Have you talked to Brian about your feelings?”

“I can’t do that! Knowing him, he’d laugh.”

“Zoe, you wouldn’t love him if he wasn’t decent. He’d protect your feelings better than that. He’d be kind.”

“He’d pity me. And then I’d scare him off. And I wouldn’t blame him. I know how I’d feel if unwanted attention was directed my way. No, I’d lose not only his love, which I really don’t know if I have, anyhow. But I’d also lose his friendship, no matter how shaky it is. What about that librarian and principal?” she asked suddenly. “Did they ever get together?”

Jean shrugged. “I don’t think so. They were a couple of amateurs, too. And he wasn’t really interested in her, especially when she wore her heart on her sleeve the way she did. The next year, he left to study for his master’s degree and she stayed on, even though it was his hometown. A few years later, she left, too, and went back to her hometown which was in another state. As far as I know, they never saw each other again. And the sad thing was that neither of them ever married. They’re probably gone now, and the only thing of value they left was their estates which their relatives probably fought over.”

“How sad! Did you know these people?”

“No, but my mother did. She was in high school at the time and saw the ball game. She said that the principal always acted like he was suffering from major pain, but he didn’t look all that bad in the basketball uniform. Mom could understand the physical attraction. She felt sorry for the librarian, though. The woman was no great beauty, but she was nice and kind. Knowing what I’ve heard about the principal’s personality, the librarian was lucky she didn’t snag him. Not that she didn’t try. What Mom remembers most is how ardently that woman set her cap for that obstinate man. The poor creature made a fool of herself over him, and he couldn’t have cared less.”

“That’s what’s wrong with crushes. They seem so ridiculous to other people. I want to keep my pride. I only told you because you knew something was wrong.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t come to me because of our friendship.”

“Oh, Jean, there’s just some things that are too painful to share with friends. I know you’re sympathetic, but you don’t know the depth of my pain. And I hope you never do.”

 

“The stars are out tonight,” Cramer remarked as his car sped down the road. “Maybe we won’t have to worry for awhile about days of school lost to snow-covered roads.”

Jean looked out her car window. “The stars look so sharp and well-defined tonight.”

“That’s because of the cold. There’s no heat waves to cause distracting shimmers. The thermometer should hit nearly zero tonight.”

“I don’t care what’s causing them to shine that way, I think they’re beautiful.”

“You would, without any thought about the cold that’s locked the country in its grip. That’s the difference between us, Miss Harnett. I’m the practical scientist and you’re a hopeless romantic.”

“There’s room for both of us. The world is a big place.”

“I know. That’s what makes knowing you so rewarding. You give me a different viewpoint.”

“I think that’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me, Mr. Cramer. Why are you feeling so expansive tonight?”

“I’m feeling good about my life. I spent part of the weekend with Paul.”

“Oh? With Elise, too?”

“No, she stayed with Mother. They talked girl stuff, I imagine. Mother’s thrilled to finally have a daughter in the family. And the women entertaining each other gave Paul and me some time to ourselves.”

“Where did you two go?”

“Out to our grandparents’ farm, and we just walked. And talked. We hadn’t done that in a long time. We hadn’t really been able to communicate since he got back from the service in December. I thought we didn’t have much in common anymore, but Saturday afternoon showed me we did. We talked about old times and growing up together. We couldn’t seem to get things said fast enough. We kept interrupting each other. Then we talked about now, and that was a little harder to put into words. But we said it, and we both feel better now.”

“I’m glad.”

“Paul’s really a great guy, but do you know what? He seemed to think the same thing about me!”

Jean grinned at the awe in his voice. “I told you that he wants you for a brother, not an admirer or president of his fan club.”

“I’d been shutting him out for years and didn’t realize it. He told me how lonesome he’d been without my companionship. I’m glad now that you told me.”

“I was out of line that day. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me to mind my own business.”

“Well, I knew that I was doing something wrong with Paul. Thank goodness I listened to you. I think that he and I can be friends now. Equal friends.”

“I’m glad about that, too.”

“How about you? When are you and Paul going to patch up your relationship? I know he still wants to be friends with you.”

Jean panicked. “I’m not ready yet.”

“I know you aren’t, but it has to be done sometime. I’d go with you to see Paul, if you want. The four of us could have dinner together on some neutral ground. Some impersonal, public place might be better than in some home. Outside distractions might help blunt awkward moments.”

“You’d do that? For me?”

“For the person who opened my eyes about Paul. I owe you a great deal.”

“I’ll think about it. I don’t want to lose Paul’s friendship.”

“And Elise? They’re a package deal now.”

“Elise and I don’t travel in the same circles.”

“She’s a very nice person, despite the family money.”

“I sound like a snob, don’t I? And here I thought that she would be one herself.”

“Reverse prejudice? You just don’t know her. She has many fine qualities.”

“She’d have to be special if Paul loves her.”

“He thought a lot of you, too.”

“But not enough, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sure if there’d been no Elise--”

Jean shifted. “What about you and Elise? Is it difficult to be around each other?”

“You forget that Elise and I were friends for years before Paul came into the picture. Elise and I grew up together. We almost had an understanding in high school, and then Paul--”

“Is that why you don’t trust women? Because your friend Elise and your brother Paul--”

“I don’t know. What is this?” Cramer asked with an edge to his voice. “Psychology 101?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking personal questions. I don’t mean to pry.”

Cramer breather deeply. “You’re not prying. And somehow it doesn’t seem so personal. You’re only trying to help.”

“I’m only trying to be a friend,” she said gently.

“And that’s what friends do, don’t they?” He glanced at her. “Thanks. You know, it’s easy to talk to you. No wonder people like you so much.”

“That’s because I let them.”

“Which? Talk to you or like you?” he asked with the edge back in his voice.

“Both,” she answered cautiously. She didn’t want to anger him, but she knew she had to answer truthfully.

“Meaning I don’t?” The edge was harder.

“You are awfully careful about what you allow people to see,” she answered, even more cautiously. “But you’re getting better,” she added quickly. “And I have to admit that I’ve been trusting you with my confidences. That has to mean something.”

“Yes, it does,” he said. 

Amazingly, she’d said the right thing. Cramer was diffused.

“It means that we really might be friends,” he continued. “And that, Miss Harnett, may be worse news for you than you think.” 

“Oh?” Jean asked cautiously, not understanding the note of mirth and even irony in his voice.

“Friendship with me won’t be exactly easy.”

“Nothing easy is worth having,” she mumbled.

“That’s a romantic notion.”

“Perhaps. But it’s my notion. Friendship with me might not be exactly easy, either, you know.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that, Miss Harnett.”

“Meaning?” she asked, slightly ruffled.

He glanced at her with an unmistakable grin on his face. “Meaning that I knew a long time ago that any relationship with you was going to be difficult.”

“Then why cultivate it?” she asked in icy tones.

“And interesting. And amusing. But never, never boring.”

Jean relaxed. “Now you’re teasing me.”

“It’s about my turn, don’t you think? You may not have realized it, but occasionally even I have been aware of what other people were saying about me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“You are now. But you weren’t at the time. And you know what? You were right. I’m slowly learning what a prig I can be.”

“That’s a hard lesson, too,” she murmured.

“And I do realize the difference between mocking and teasing. Friends tease.”

“And you think that’s changed?”

“I certainly hope so.” He frowned. “Hasn’t it?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “Of course.”

Cramer relaxed and drove quietly for a few moments. Then he suddenly said, “My mother is worried about you.”

Jean glanced at his shadowy from beside her. “Oh?”

“She said that you canceled a club meeting date with her.”

She glanced at roadside objects briefly lit up by the car lights. A highway sign. The trunk of a tree. “Yes. I did.”

“She wants to stay friends with you.”

“I thought that you and I agreed it would be best if I broke off ties with your family.”

“We did, but apparently it will hurt Mother. We have to consider her feelings.”

She glanced at him. “You wouldn’t mind? If she and I were friends?”

“What difference would it make to me?! I’m sorry. I guess Mother appreciates female companionship. She hoped she would find it with Elise, but that will be over when she and Paul move away to continue his college studies.”

“A degree in electrical engineering will take forever to complete.”

“That’s why he’s going into education and teach math and science.”

“Teach? What level?”

“High school.”

Jean tried to imagine Paul as a secondary school educator. He didn’t quite fill the role. Harder still was picturing Elise as a teacher’s wife on a limited budget and knowing that their lot would probably never be any better financially. What a strain that might put on their marriage. Love could only go so far. Perhaps their marriage would flounder with so many obstacles before them.

“I’ve probably had the same thoughts that you’re obviously having.”

His voice in the quiet made her realize that several miles had passed while she was in her reverie.

“I wouldn’t want to see them fail,” she answered.

“Of course not. But deep down, don’t you think you’d get a perverse pleasure if they did?”

She glanced at him. “Honesty time?”

“I don’t know if either one of us can be that honest. Revenge can be sweet. Or, at least the thought of it can be. No matter what a brave face we presented to the world, we were still hurt by their elopement.”

“A tiny hurt to add to all the other tiny hurts? And all we can hope is that no one else can see the scars, unless we trust someone enough to expose them.”

“Do you trust that much, Miss Harnett? I think you do. I’d like to be that open, but I can’t.”

But you have been, she thought. Right now you’re dumping on me like I’m a father confessor. “Maybe you can, in time,” she mumbled.

“Perhaps. I just don’t think that it’s the right course for Paul.”

“And they just might make it.”

“Are you turning all glittery and starry-eyed on me again?”

“No, right at the moment, I’m feeling very practical. We have to give them the benefit of a doubt. Other couples have surmounted more challenging obstacles. And who knows? They might be contented with a teacher’s life.”

“Learn to compromise, eh?”

“At least they will be challenging themselves. Sometimes that keeps a relationship fresh.” 

“And you know all about challenges, don’t you? Before you say anything,” he said over her sputtering protests, “I meant that as a compliment. You came to a strange job in a strange town among strangers and have conquered them all. You fit right in. Heck, you even learned to drive a car when the need arose. You don’t lack spunk or courage. Even if it does get misdirected sometimes.”

She gave him a sharp look. “Bull-headed? Obstinate?”

“You said it, Miss Harnett, I didn’t. But sometimes you can get pretty determined. And that’s not necessarily bad, but it sure can surprise someone who’s used to that soft, fluttery side of you. I never know which side I’m going to see or what’s going to set you off.”

“Sorry,” she apologized meekly.

“That’s not necessarily bad, either. I just wish I could be a little more spontaneous.”

“But you’re steady and dependable. I pretty well know what to expect from you.”

“Even if it’s dull?”

“That’s not always bad. It can be very reassuring. YOU can be very reassuring.”

“That’s probably one of the first genuine compliments I’ve ever received from you. Not that there hasn’t been opportunities for other opinions of me, I expect.”

Jean rolled her eyes at him. She didn’t dare risk a glance. Mrs. Doubleday had once warned Jean to guard her tongue. Now Jean wondered if some of her early, unkind remarks about him could’ve reached his ears. Drat his dry sense of humor! She didn’t know if he was amused or offended by her loose tongue or was on a simple fishing expedition. “One can never tell, can I?” she mumbled and could’ve kicked herself. What a stupid, inane thing to say! It had nothing to do with what he’d said, but she’d needed something to cover the silence.

“Have you ever thought of going back to school?” she asked and wondered where that question had come from, too. She hadn’t even thought about further schooling until she’d opened her mouth.

“To get my master’s? I’m considering it.”

“You are?” she asked, amazed. “When? Next year? Forgive me. That’s none of my business.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ve wanted to talk it over with somebody, anyway.”

“I’m a poor one to consult. I don’t even have a full year of teaching experience behind me yet.”

“But you’re in the same position I am: young, just starting out in the profession, no strings. Should I get more experience at the high school level or get a master’s and teach in a college? I really enjoy what I’m doing now, but I’m in my hometown with people I’ve known all my life. Should I pull up stakes and work in a different situation, say a ghetto in the inner city?”

Jean could not suppress a laugh. “They’d eat you alive! Me, too, for that fact. We’d better stick to what we know.”

“That’s what I thought. I’m adventuresome, but I’m not foolhardy. But I’m seriously considering a career in a college. Someplace where not a whole lot goes on, but I won’t notice because I’ll feel so much at home. A town about the size of Springfield, around three thousand, where there will be a good theater and a variety of finer restaurants, but I’ll still know my next door neighbors. And there will be opportunities for learning, both academically and in small study groups. And I’d feel very comfortable and close to the people I know. And in the summer, there will be college-sponsored tours to all sorts of places around the world. Greece. Japan. England.”

“Italy. Tahiti. Nairobi. Oh, I love to travel, too!”

“And a two-story house with lots of rooms and a workshop in the basement for me--”

“And a big kitchen with lots of pots and pans with a huge table in the center of the floor so friends can sit around and visit while you cook, and your friends can sample all kinds of gourmet food--”

“And a card table will be permanently set up in the living room so visitors can add a piece or two to a picture puzzle as they pass by. And lots of cozy nooks and crannies with interesting wall hangings and shelves for books. Lots of books. Everywhere. And lots of bedrooms upstairs.”

“And lots of children to fill up all those bedrooms upstairs.”

“How did I get children? I’m not even married.”

“While you’re dreaming, you might as well be happy.”

“And a family would give me happiness?”

“I can guarantee it.”

She could almost make out his grin in the dim light of the dashboard.

“How?” he wanted to know.

She shrugged. “Well, it just makes sense, that’s all.”

“I know what you mean. Children are supposed to complete the picture of a happy life, aren’t they? And I do want children someday.”

“But?”

“But there has to be a woman willing to have my children. Actually, she is what it will take to represent a happy life to me, not children or a big house or even a teaching job in a college. Because, if I have a woman who’s willing to share my life, then those other things will happen, too. And if they don’t, I won’t mind because I’ll have her.”

“And she will be one lucky woman,” Jean mumbled around the lump in her throat. How close to her dream his was sounding.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing important. I didn’t realize that men had such things figured out.”

“Men like to dream of their future marriage and home, too. Women don’t have a monopoly on those plans.”

“My apologies. It’s refreshing to hear a man speak out on those topics. It’s a wonder no woman hasn’t snatched you up and carted you off to the altar.”

“Now you’re getting all glittery and starry-eyed again.”

“Are you teasing me or mocking me?”

“You’ll have to guess.”

Jean grinned. “I think I have.”

 

“Cramer residence.”

“Mrs. Cramer, this is Jean Harnett.”

A moment of silence was finally broken by Alida Cramer, poised and gracious as ever. “How nice of you to telephone, Miss Harnett. How have you been?”

“Just fine, thank you. And you?”

“Better since my cold is finally clearing up.”

“Your son said you had been under the weather. Sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

“Mrs. Cramer, I wonder if we might get together for a talk sometime?”

“I think I would enjoy that, my dear. How about this Sunday afternoon? Bob will be out of town, and we’ll have the house to ourselves.”

“Sounds great! I’ll see you then.”

But Jean worried as she hung up the phone. Whatever would she say to Alida Cramer except that she was sorry for snubbing her?

 

Jean needn’t have worried. Alida graciously put Jean at ease, and within minutes the two women were laughing and visiting like old friends. They played two-handed canasta for awhile, then Jean followed Alida into the kitchen to keep her company while she started supper.

“You will stay and eat, of course.”

“I don’t want to impose--”

“It’ll just be Bob and me, and he may be late. In fact, he may not make it at all, and I’d love to have your company.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, Jean. It so lovely of you to visit.”

“I enjoy being in your home.” She saw Alida’s look of consternation as she opened and closed cabinet doors. “I something wrong?”

“I can’t find the pizza pan. It may be in the pantry. Would you mind looking in that upper cabinet for it while I take a quick look in the pantry?” Alida disappeared into her walk-in pantry.

Jean pulled up the step stool and climbed up a step. She dug in the indicated cabinet. “Not there,” she muttered. “Now, where?”

Suddenly she was spun violently around into strong arms. She screamed and grasped the shoulders beneath her hands to keep from falling. She looked up into a smiling, skinnier, younger version of Paul topped with a blonde crew cut.

His grin vanished. “You’re not my mother,” he said, puzzled.

Jean couldn’t stop the grin that was crossing her face.

He grinned down at her tousled hair and amused face. “I think I’m glad. Did a tiny bit of Heaven just fall into my arms?”

Jean laughed at his blatant blarney. She’d seen his face on photographs scattered throughout the living room. “I bet you’re Jerry Cramer.”

“I bet you’re right. Now, who are you, Princess?”

“Did you fall, Jean? I heard you scream-- Jerry! Whatever are you doing here?!”

Jerry and Jean untangled themselves out of each others' arms.

“Hello, Mother. I escaped school for a few days.” He looked down at Jean. “I think I picked the right time to come home.”

Jean grinned and her face glowed with healthy color.

“And I still don’t know the name of this young lady.”

“Jean Harnett,” his mother answered. “She teaches English in the high school.”

“Oh, you’re one of Bob’s slaves, aren’t you? Nice to meet you, Jean Harnett.” He tilted his head as he studied her. “I know that name. Are you the one who occupied my bed right before I came home for Christmas?”

Jean blushed and shyly nodded her head.

“Then you’re the one who Paul jilted.”

“Jerry!” his mother chided.

“Sorry.” He gazed into Jean’s eyes with a soft smile. “I think that Jean knows I meant nothing malicious by it.”

And oddly, she did know it. She smiled back warmly. “Yes, I am the same person. I wouldn’t admit at first that Paul’s elopement hurt and angered me, though. That’s what your mother and I have been talking about this afternoon, among other things.”

“Girl talk, then.”

“That’s right, son of mine,” Alida said. “Now, why are you here?”

“I needed some fresh air, and space, and time.”

“What about your scholarship requirements? Bob will have one unholy fit if you let that drop.”

Jerry finally looked at his mother. “Not a fit. He’ll just walk around glaring at me with icicles forming on his shoulders. There will be little puffs of snow flurries scattering every time he takes a step. And the room will have a definite chill about it.”

Jean wanted to giggle for she recognized his sophomoric humor, but laughter would only encourage him. She bet he’d been the class clown when he was attending Woodstock High. How could Paul and Jerry be so charming and personable while Bob Cramer was a mere shadow of them?

Jean’s mouth didn’t twitch but her eyes must’ve twinkled with mirth, and Jerry saw it. He grabbed her arm.

“Come on, let’s go into the living room and get acquainted.”

“But, your mother, I was helping her--”

“She’s used to cooking by herself, ain’t ya, Ma?”

“But you should visit with her--”

“Aw, we’ve known each other since before I was born.” He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and said in a stage whisper to her, “I’m taking Jean into the living room and working the Cramer charm on her.”

“Have fun, dear,” Alida said pleasantly. “Call if you need help, Jean.”

“But--”

Jean was propelled into the living room where her protests dissolved into laughter. She felt like she’d known Jerry Cramer forever, instead of only for a few minutes.

“Sit here,” he commanded and pulled her down to the sofa with him.

She had only time to think: I’m sitting where Robert Cramer had his legs before Christmas, and Jerry’s sitting on his chest.

“What are you grinning about?”

She didn’t dare tell him about watching his brother sleeping on the sofa. Jerry would’ve thought she was weird. To him, Robert Cramer was merely mortal.

“You,” she answered and it was only part of a lie.

“So, tell me all about Miss Jean Harnett.”

“Well, I’m originally from Canton and I went to college at Warren State and this is my first teaching job.”

“And do you like teaching?”

“So, so. I’m making a lot of mistakes that I guess beginning teachers make, and I was warned about them in ed. classes. But nothing taught in class can prepare a person for the stark reality of the classroom where you are in charge. It can feel pretty lonesome, at first.”

“Surely, it’s gotten better. A lot of that awkward phase was getting used to the routine, wasn’t it?”

“I think so. But I love the kids. Well, at least most of them. And I’ve made so many new friends here, especially on the faculty.”

Jerry grinned. “Bob?”

“He’s been very helpful to me. Sometimes we differ in our opinions, but he generally backs me.”

“But are you two friends?” he persisted.

“Sometimes I think we are. Sometimes I think we’re on opposite ends of the poles, fighting and jockeying with each other. Sometimes he hunkers down in his snug little world and won’t let me in. Sometimes I’m just plain in awe of him. He is, after all, my boss. Sometimes I’d just like to scream at him or slap him or step on his foot, anything, just so I knew he was aware of my presence in his world. He’s so self-contained.”

“Man, do you know my brother! You’ve probably wondered how parents who produced Paul and me could’ve come up with Bob. Well, we’ve wondered ourselves.”

“Jerry!” she chided, punching him in the arm. She felt at ease enough with him to do that.

“What? What’s wrong with stating the obvious? We know what we have in our midst.”

That’s not nice, even if it is true.”

“Oh.” His face grew serious. “But we love him.”

“Of course, you do.”

“And that’s not so easy to do, Jean, because he won’t let people get near him. He throws up defenses if someone tries to get too close. I don’t know why he’s so self-protective. I don’t know why he won’t loosen up. He probably seems mysterious to some people, when in fact he’s just dull. But he can be funny. He’s got a sense of humor so dry that chalk dust seems moist compared to it. But he’s steady and reliable and dependable.” He grinned. “Sounds like a faithful border collie, doesn’t he?”

“Oh, you!”

He laid his arm around the top of the sofa behind her. “You can’t be too much older than I am. Maybe two, maybe three years at the most. I’ve always wanted to date an ‘older woman.’ Now I think I’ve found the perfect candidate.”

“You work fast, don’t you?”

“It’s the fatal Cramer charm.”

“Don’t you mean blarney?”

“A little of both.”

They both laughed, then tensed, listening. They heard again the whisper of cloth and froze. Something, or somebody, new was in the room with them, and it was hostile to them. They looked up.

Robert Cramer, hat pushed back on his head, topcoat opened so he could plant his fists on his hips, was glaring down at them.

Jerry smeared a big grin across his face. “Bob! How’s it going, Bro?!”

“What are you doing home, Jerry?”

“What? No ‘Hi, Jerry, how’s it going?’ back? You know, Mother asked me the same thing. ‘What are you doing home, Jerry?‘ Jean’s going to think that’s our usual family greeting.”

“She knows better than that,” Cramer grumbled as he shoved his hat and topcoat into the closet.

“Oh, oh, he’s mad,” Jerry said under his breath. “He generally treats his garments like they were raiment for the gods.”

“I’ll go help your mother,” Jean said as she tried to rise, but Jerry’s hand clamped on her shoulder. She glanced at him and he gave her a desperate look. She settled back and he relaxed his hand but did not release his hold on her. Jerry wanted her strength. Besides, Robert Cramer probably wouldn’t chew Jerry out in Jean’s presence.

Cramer shot Jerry a look as though noticing something for the first time. “Why are you mauling Miss Harnett?”

“She doesn’t mind.”

“Is that true, Miss Harnett?”

“He doesn’t mean anything by it, Mr. Cramer.”

“Oh, yes, I do,” Jerry protested, but removed his arm to his lap. “I like to have my arm around a pretty lady.”

Jean rolled her eyes at Jerry.

“You have to watch Jerry, Miss Harnett. He’s a terrible tease.” Cramer settled in an overstuffed chair facing them.

How come Jean got the insane feeling that she’d been called into the principal’s office for doing something naughty? “Ah, how did your meeting go?” she asked Cramer, to fill the silence.

“Fine,” Cramer snapped, then remembered his manners. “We should be able to add Albion to the football schedule next year.”

“Albion?” Jerry interrupted. “They’ll tear our heads off! They’re a bigger school.”

“Not anymore. They’ve declined in the two years since you’ve been out. These smaller towns are losing population, and students, every year. Miss Harnett is from Canton, so those folks don’t need to worry. But the time may come, and in the near future, too, when Woodstock could lose its school.”

“Woodstock? I’d never imagined--” Jerry looked genuinely shocked and concerned.

“That’s why we need teachers willing to come to the small schools and stay. Otherwise, we’ll lose our school. And when the school closes, the town quickly follows. That’s why you should stay in education.”

Jean saw Jerry ball his fist.

“And what if I’m not sure of what I want to do with the rest of my life?” Jerry asked.

“Then, in the meantime, you go to college and get a degree. That’ll give you a few years to figure things out and you’ll have something to show for it besides time lost.”

It was sensible advice and logical thinking, but Jerry seemed to resent it because Bob had said it. Jean sensed that it was maddening to someone besides herself that Robert Cramer could always be so maddeningly right. If he also didn’t act so smug about it, it might not wrangle so much.

“But we’ll talk about that later” Robert Cramer continued. Right now, we’re boring Miss Harnett with family business.”

Jean and Jerry glanced at each other. Jerry leaned toward her as if to embrace her, which was a gesture partly from nervousness. “If she was bored, she’d never let on. She’s that much of a lady.”

Jean winked encouragement at him, but knew it was a mistake when she faced Cramer. He’d seen the wink and interpreted it as collusion or outright flirting.

Cramer bit his lips together and jumped out of his chair. “Excuse me! I have work to do!”

He disappeared up the stairs, and Jean drew a cautious breath. “Wow, what a temper he has! I hope he gets over THAT mood before morning. He’s back to being cantankerous, isn’t he? And I thought he was starting to mellow.”

“Bob?! That’ll be the day when he starts to mellow. I’d like to be around to see what would cause that miracle. Don’t you know by now that he enjoys soaking in his acid bath, Miss Harnett? Wait,” he said with a whisper, “He’s coming back down.”

“It’s time for supper,” Robert Cramer muttered to no one in particular as he passed them with lowered head.

At that moment, the door opened and Alida appeared. “Bob! I thought I heard your voice. I didn’t know you were home.”

“Hello, Mother. I was planning to come in the back door so I wouldn’t disturb you and Miss Harnett.” He glanced at Jerry. “Then I saw Jerry’s car and thought I’d better find out what was going on.”

Jerry gave him a lazy grin. “I just came to pay my family a visit. Anything wrong with that?”

“There is when it happens in the middle of a semester.”

Alida sensed the conflict between her sons. “Come into the kitchen and we’ll eat now,” Alida ordered. “I know we have company, but Jean and I decided to be informal and eat out there. We’re having pizza.”

“Wow! You knew I was coming home, after all.”

“No, I didn’t son. Pizza happens to be one of Jean’s favorites. We just had trouble relocating the pan.”

“And that was my cue to enter the picture,” Jerry said with a wink and a smile at Jean who smiled and winked back. They both felt Robert Cramer’s glare at their backs.  
“Come on!” Jerry said. “I can’t wait to dig into that pizza! Right, Bob?” 

But as they trooped into the kitchen, Jean caught an unguarded look of ill-humor on Robert Cramer’s face and deduced that pizza was NOT one of his favorite meals.

 

“No work, no eat,” Jean announced as they finished the meal.

“Now, what a minute,” Jerry protested. “You don’t mean you expect Bob and me to do the dishes!”

Jean crossed her arms. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“But that skillet you fried the hamburger in is greasy! Yuck!”

Jean shivered in mock horror. “I know. But it’s good for the hands. Here.” She tossed aprons to the brothers. “You both will look lovely in ruffles.”

Jerry held up his arms. “Do me, Jean. I simply can’t tie a bow.”

“Oh, you! You are incorrigible.” She stood in front of him and tried to reach behind him with the apron strings, but she couldn’t quite make a bow. It was obvious that Jerry was enjoying her struggles. She pulled the apron back into her hands. “Turn around!”

He happily complied, then watched over his shoulder as she tried to figure out how to put the apron on him without wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Here! Put this up against your tummy.”

“It’d be twice as much fun if you did it.”

“I’m glad you’re not a student in this school anymore,” she muttered as she finished. “There! Finished! You could model for Good Housekeeping now.”

“But Bob couldn’t. Look at that bow! Better let Jean fix it for you.”

“My bow is perfectly fine, thank you.”

Jerry leaned toward Bob and said in a loud stage whisper, “The idea, dear brother, is to get the pretty lady to put her arms around you.”

“That, dear brother, is a pleasure that she seems to have reserved for you alone. Now, where is that dishpan?”

Robert Cramer rolled up his shirt sleeves, plunged his hands into the soapy water, and proceeded to make fast work of the pile of dirty dishes, even the greasy ones. “Come on, Jerry. You’ll have to dry faster than that if you want to keep up with me.”

“Is this the way you push your teachers?” Jerry demanded. “It’s a wonder they don’t call you a slave driver.”

“I expect that’s one of the nicer things they call me.” He raised an eyebrow at Jean. “Isn’t that right, Miss Harnett?”

“Whatever are you talking about, Mr. Cramer?” Jean tried to say innocently.

“You have to admit, Bob, she does that rather well.”

“I’ve known her longer than you have, Jerry. She’s overacting.”

Jean blushed. Robert Cramer had realized that about her? She thought only her closest friends knew what a ham she was. Besides, Robert Cramer had always acted too distracted by his own cares and concerns to notice her behavior. Maybe she wasn’t invisible to him, after all.

Then, Robert Cramer did something extraordinary. He covered Jean’s discomfort by drawing attention away from her.

“Is that all of the dishes, Mother?”

“I think so, Bob. You did a magnificent job.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, I want to get my sweater from upstairs,” Alida said as she stood up. “Then I’ll be out in the living room.”

Cramer turned to Jean. “And does my performance meet with your approval, Miss Harnett?”

Jean, now fully recovered from her embarrassment, said, “I believe it does, Mr. Cramer.”

He untied his apron and laid it on the kitchen table. “Then, if you’ll excuse me, I have some class preparation for tomorrow.”

“I didn’t mean to keep you from your homework, Mr. Cramer.”

“On the contrary, Miss Harnett, I had to eat sometime. And if I had to sing for my supper, it was better I did it this way and not literally.”

A devil made her tilt her head and grin at him. “I bet you have a lovely singing voice.”

“Please!” Jerry protested. “Not so soon after we’ve eaten.”

“See?” Cramer said. “Jerry probably still has embedded somewhere in his psyche the lullabies I warbled to him while he was still in the cradle. You know, the theme song for the Mousekeeter Club?”

Jean’s eyes flashed. “You were a Mouskeeter?!”

Cramer grinned at her pleasure. “Weren’t we all? Yes, I have to admit my Club affiliation. I’ve still got my Mouse ears upstairs somewhere.”

“Oh, so do I! They’re one of my childhood treasures.”

“Although he doesn’t remember it, Jerry never missed a Club meeting. It was required after-school television viewing for us boys.”

Jerry made a goofy face. “It’s why I am the way I am today. I owe it all to my brothers.”

“On that note, I’ll excuse myself before I corrupt Jerry any further. I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Harnett.”

“Good evening, Mr. Cramer.”

Jerry waited until Bob had disappeared up the stairs. “How long have two known each other?”

“Since September.”

“And you still call each other by your last names? Wow!”

“We thought it best for professional reasons. While I was seeing Paul, your other brother and I got a little lax with names. Afterwards, we decided it was best to put a little space between me and your family. Surprisingly, it helped in my efforts to get over Paul.”

“Paul really ripped a hole in you, didn’t he?”

Jean frowned. “Yes, he did.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be insensitive to your feelings, Jean.”

“I know. You’re curious. I would be, too. Yes, I liked Paul a lot, and it hurt to lose him. But your other brother helped me through some of the rougher spots. He’s been very supportive and understanding. We don’t always see eye to eye, but I can count on him.”

“My other brother, hmm? I can’t believe that you actually got him to help with the dishes. You seem to have a lot of influence with him. What’s your secret?”

Jean shrugged. “Search me.”

He grinned. “Mean it?”

“Silly! He’ll be correcting you again for touching me.”

“Speaking of that, why was he protecting you? He ruffled up like an old sitting hen when he saw my arm around you.” 

“I guess he doesn’t like his teachers acting improperly.”

“For a moment, I thought he was jealous.”

“Jealous? Him?! Why--” Jean sputtered.

Jerry held up his hands to fend her off. “Whoa! I said, ‘For a moment.’ We both know ol’ Bob would never have such human thoughts, don’t we?” Jerry frowned, then his face cleared. “But enough about that stuffed shirt. Let’s do something interesting.”

“Jerry! He’s your brother.”

“Don’t hold that against me.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on, there’s a game I want you to play.”

The game turned out to be Twister.

“Oh, no, you won’t get me to play,” Alida argued. “The last time I played, I put my back out for a week. I’ll just watch the two of you trying to cripple yourselves.”

Jerry lay down the sheet with the printed steps that the players had to follow. Jean and Jerry were limber and soon got twisted in horrible shapes. At last, Jean had to lean over Jerry’s stomach for the play where her right hand should go. She lost her balance, and she and Jerry fell into a tangled heap.

Suddenly their laughter stopped and they looked up into Robert Cramer’s critical face.

“What are you two doing?! I could hear your yelling from clear upstairs. The neighbors will be calling to complain.”

Jerry grinned up from where he and Jean lay, laughing and red-faced, on the floor. “Twister, Bob. Wanna play?”

“No, thanks, I just came down for a glass of milk. Might as well eat something while I’m at it,” he mumbled as he headed for the kitchen. “Since I can’t work for the noise, anyway.”

Jean and Jerry glanced at each other like a couple of conspiring schoolchildren, then burst out laughing.

Even Alida had a smile on her face. “I wondered how long it’d take him to get down here for food. Pizza isn’t exactly his favorite meal. The next time you’re here, Jean, I’ll have to fix something Bob likes. I have to be careful about that sort of thing.”

“I like most anything, Mrs. Cramer.”

“That’s what I figured. You’re the type that fits in most anywhere, while Bob--” She sighed deeply.

“I’m glad she fits in around here.” Jerry touched his forehead against Jean’s, and they smiled at each other.

“Are you two still down there?” Robert Cramer demanded as he reappeared with a glass of milk and a sandwich.

“Come on, Jean, before we get our knuckles rapped.”

Jerry helped Jean to stand, and she smoothed down her clothing and hair.

“I hope you two are over your foolishness for this evening,” Cramer said with obvious irritation in his voice.

“Well, maybe for this evening.” Jerry looked at Jean, and they both had trouble keeping straight faces.

“I don’t know why you were playing that stupid child’s game, anyway.”

Jerry said in a loud stage whisper, “It’s another way to get my arms around the pretty lady, Bob. Try it sometime.”

Jean whimpered and bit her lips together to keep from laughing.

Cramer scowled. “How come you’ve decided that should become my major goal in life?”

“Why not? It’s mine. Loosen up a little, brother.”

“If you get any looser, you’ll flow across the floor and ooze out under the door.”

Jerry sobered. “That’d be better than breaking apart and shattering like glass all over the floor, the way you would.”

“What makes you think I’d break?”

“Because you couldn’t bend.”

“Boys!” Alida cautioned.

“Yes, Mother,” they replied in unison.

“You go ahead and play,” Cramer mumbled as he headed for the stairway. “But, please, be a little quieter, won’t you? I have work to do.”

Jerry and Jean giggled together.

“He’s right,” Jean said. “I have work to do, too. Besides, my roommate will start wondering where I am. Thank you for the lovely afternoon and evening, Mrs. Cramer.”

“I enjoyed your company, my dear.”

“I’ll see you out to your car, Jean.”

“Thanks, Jerry. Good night, Mrs. Cramer.”

“Goodnight, Jean. I hope you’ll feel free to drop in anytime.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Jean and Jerry picked their way through the snow to Jean’s car. They were laughing as they chatted, and their voices carried on the cold air.

At the car, Jean turned to Jerry. “I’m happy to have met you, Jerry. I had fun this evening.”

“Whoa! You’re not getting away that easily. I’d like to see you again.”

“You mean, like a date?”

The light from the streetlight flashed on his teeth and eyes and he smiled. “Exactly like a date!”

Jean grinned. She liked this personable young man. “All right. Call me sometime.”

“How about tomorrow evening? Say, seven? We can go sled riding out on the farm by moonlight.”

“How romantic!”

“I hope so. And if the moon isn’t shining, we’ll think of something to do to wile away the hours.”

She socked his arm. “You are incorrigible!”

“I sincerely hope so. Until tomorrow night then.” He put his arms around her. “I love goodbyes. It’s yet another way to get hugs from a pretty lady.”

She pushed out of his arms and laughed. “I really have to be going. Good night, Jerry.”

“Good night, princess. Don’t be too hard on the kids tomorrow. I ask it as a favor from someone who was always in trouble with his teachers.”

She grinned. “I’d believe that.”

Just as she reached for her car door handle, Jean glanced up at the house and saw a partial shadow on an upstairs window. Robert Cramer was spying on them. For a wild moment, she wanted to give him a real show but thought better of it. Tomorrow, she had to work for him. And with him.

 

Promptly at seven o’clock the next evening, Jerry knocked at Jean’s door.

“Come in a minute and meet my roommate. Zoe, this is Jerry Cramer.”

Zoe shook Jerry’s hand as she openly stared at him. “How do you do, Jerry?” she asked. But her face said, ‘He’s a ringer for Paul. How can you stand to be around such a reminder?’

Jean couldn’t answer that one. She only knew she enjoyed Jerry’s company. “We have to go now, Zoe! See ya!”

“Bye, Jean, have fun.”

 

Out at the Farnsworth place, the night was perfect for sledding. Light from a full moon lit up the treeless slope that curved gently down to the lake. Jean recognized it as the hill where the rabbit hunter had stood when she and Paul were skating. From here, it was no wonder Robert Cramer hadn’t recognized her.

They laughed and frolicked and enjoyed the sledding for over two hours.

“I better get you home. It’s starting to get cold. And tomorrow is a school day for you,” Jerry said as they trudged back to his car.

“You’d make a mean mother, spoiling kids’ fun.”

“It’s not me. It’s Bob.”

“How did he get into this?” Jean asked, annoyed by Robert Cramer’s interference. “He isn’t even here.”

“I promised I’d have you home by ten o’clock. We should just about make it.”

“And what if we aren’t? Will he ground us?”

Jerry grinned. “He worries, I guess. He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to us. He said that you seem to draw trouble. There was something about you and Paul getting stranded at your folks in a snowstorm recently.”

“That wasn’t my fault!”

“Bob said it never is. But stuff happens to you, anyway. The gods have picked you to smile upon, in a perverse sort of way. I think it’s kind of cute.”

“Wait until you’ve been around me awhile, and it might not seem so cute. Apparently, I’m the Typhoid Mary of disasters,” she grumbled.

He grinned as he stowed the sled in the trunk of his old Mercury. “I thought nothing would get you down.”

“Who said I am down? We can’t let that old fuddy-duddy spoil our evening, can we?” She slapped an exaggerated smile on her face. “See?”

He laughed. “I’d like a little more sincerity, if you please.”

Jean, who couldn’t stay angry very long around Jerry, relaxed and gave him a genuine smile.

“There. That’s better. Did you have fun tonight, Jean?”

“Oh, yes, I did, Jerry.”

“I’d let you see the farmhouse, but it looks like nobody’s home.”

“That’s okay. It is getting late.”

“Here. Hop in. That heater’s going to feel good.”

“Yeah!”

The car ground its gears with disinterest.

“What’s wrong?”

“The car won’t start. The battery must be dead.”

“I’ve heard of guys running out of gas on dates out in the country, but that was generally in the summertime.”

“Nobody’s home here, so we can’t get in the house to call anyone.” He glanced at her. “I guess we’ll have to walk. Woodstock’s about a mile away. Do you mind?”

“There’s not much choice, is there?” she said, heaving herself against the door to open it. “At least the exercise will keep us warm. And it’s a beautiful night. Just look at those stars,” she said as they trudged down the road. “In this moonlight, we can see only the brightest ones. But they’re worth it.”

“You’re an awfully good sport.”

She shrugged. “Why chew you out? You didn’t cause the car’s mechanical problems. Now, if you’d run out of gas in the summertime, I’d been pretty suspicious. Look, there’s the Dog Star. It’s Sirius.”

“And I expect that other star over there is frivolous?”

They both laughed.

“I’ve waited a long time to use that line. You make a good straight man, Jean. Are you angry with me?”

“For tonight? No! I’m having fun. Aren’t you?”

A grin slowly crossed his face. “Well, now that you mention it, I guess I am. Anything’s fun with you around.”

“And don’t forget, you did have fair warning. Your brother know what he’s talking about. You should’ve listened to him.”

“I think I’d still take my chances on you.”

“So does he. For some odd reason, he thinks I’m a good teacher.”

“Maybe you are.”

“I’ve made about every mistake a beginning teacher can make, from lax discipline to inspiring crushes.”

“Everybody has to start somewhere. Maybe Bob realizes that. And don’t forget, it hasn’t been too long ago since he was a beginning teacher himself.”

“Somehow I can’t imagine him having trouble.”

“I can’t remember for sure. I just missed being in school under him. The fall I started college was the first year he taught back here, so I wasn’t around. That’s about the time we ceased having much in common. Oh, sure, there’s always been things like sports that have brought us together. All three of us like team sports. We like playing them as well as watching them. And we like outdoor activities like hunting and fishing, too.”

“So do we. Our family goes to the lake each summer. We have a cabin up there and spend as much time as we can fishing, especially on weekends.”

“You do? You don’t seem like the outdoor type.”

“That’s because I’m trying to act like a proper schoolmarm around Woodstock. But I assure you, I can bait a hook and gut a fish with the best of them.”

“Now if you could only cook that fish, I’d marry you tomorrow.”

“Where’s your wedding band, mister? Do you want that fish with butter sauce or grilled? Better not hand out those proposals so lightly. Some gal’s going to take you up on your offer.”

“You can cook?”

“I’m no gourmet chef, but I don’t burn coffee, either. My dad said girls should be raised with a lot of different skills.”

“So did our dad. He wanted us boys to be able to use our hands to support ourselves. As kids, we mowed yards and stocked shelves at the grocery store. Dad even had us helping our grandfather out here on the farm. We all know what hard work is.”

“How wonderful that you had that much together.”

He glanced at her in the moonlight as they crunched along the frozen road. “I never thought of it that way. I always thought of how little we had in common, not how much.”

“I’m surprised, Jerry. You strike me as a very optimistic person.”

“Generally, I am. But being around Bob is pretty depressing sometimes.”

“I know what you mean,” she mumbled. “He doesn’t exactly do his share to keep a social situation running along smoothly, does he?”

Jerry’s grin flashed in the moonlight. “Boy, do you know my brother!”

“Sometimes, too well. Sometimes, I get under his skin.”

“In a romantic way?” Jerry teased.

“No, silly! I meant that I irritate him.”

“Does anything ever irritate you, Jean?”

“Of course, it does. I try not to show it, though. I try not to get really mad, either. I’m afraid I’d get to be such a spiteful little creature, if I did get angry.”

 

‘You?! I couldn’t believe that of you for a minute! I can’t even see you brooding. No, you’d be like April skies. Clouds might appear, but sunshine would break out soon. Storms would never last very long in your skies.”

“I don’t know how I’d treat long term anger against me. I think I’d hide my head and pretend it wasn’t there.”

“Never!” Jerry said with a grin in his voice. “You’d charm anybody out of anger, even silent anger.”

“I hope I never have to find out. It’s one thing that really bothers me. I don’t want anybody mad at me. Long term anger would kill the soul, mine as well as the person generating it. It takes so much energy to hate.”

“Energy that could be used for love?”

“Oh, you!” She threw a playful whack at his shadowy arm beside her. “No wonder kid brothers have such bad reputations! What they say is true!”

“See? Your skies are clearing up already. Just like they are here. We can see for miles. Tomorrow’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“Look, there’s headlights coming our way. Is this a through road?”

“No. And I hope that’s not a blue and white Ford belonging to Bob.”

It was, of course. And Robert Cramer was furious.

“What happened?!”

“My car wouldn’t start, so we began walking.”

“Well, pile in before you both freeze to death. We’ll take Miss Harnett home and go back to jumpstart your car.”

Wedged tightly between two Cramer brothers, Jean felt like laughing to ease the tension, but the animosity emanating from Robert Cramer was almost a physical presence that sobered her.

“You could’ve crawled in the back seat, Jerry, and let us have more room up here,” Cramer said as he drove.

“What? And left you alone with Jean?”

“We’ve been alone before, and nothing’s happened.”

“You’re duller than I thought you were, big brother.” Jerry snaked his left arm around Jean’s shoulders and pulled her close to himself. “Better, Bob? Does that give you more room?”

“Don’t use me as your excuse to get fresh.”

“Have you no romance in your soul? You’re not living up to the Cramer family reputation.”

“I believe you’re handling that quite nicely,” Cramer snapped. “And stop mauling Miss Harnett!”

“It’s yet another way to get my arms around the pretty lady. You really ought to try it sometime.”

“I already have!”

` “Oh?” Jerry said after a long, silent moment. “Is that right, Jean?”

“I was upset once and he comforted me.”

“Heaven forbid that it was anything else. Right, Bob?”

“Another time--” Cramer started.

“Another time?! Jerry echoed, pretending to be shocked. “How often has this sort of thing happened?”

“THE only other time, I was ill and she helped me home. And that’s about as wild as it got.”

“So, you two really haven’t--”

“No!” Cramer and Jean replied in unison.

Cramer’s car skidded to a stop in Mrs. D.’s driveway.

“Well, here you are, Jean, safe and sound at long last.” Jerry jumped out and reached in for Jean. 

For one blazing moment Jean became acutely aware of still being crushed up against Robert Cramer, and then Jerry hauled her outside to stand beside him.

“Whoa!” She slipped on the snow and grabbed Jerry’s arm.

“Your boots are warm from the heater. I’ll help you to the house.”

“There’s no need for that, Jerry,” Bob Cramer chided. “She is a strong, healthy young woman. She can walk that far unaided.”

“Where’s your gallantry, Bob? Her boots might be overheated.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s overheated.”

“Bob! You’ll shock Miss Harnett. Come on,” Jerry whispered in her ear, “before we both have to stand in the corner. And with our luck, he’d make it opposite corners.”

With a laugh, they ran for Jean’s apartment and landed with a thud on the darkened front porch.

Jean was laughing hard by then. “Oh, Jerry, he’ll be mad at both of us for days! But right now, I don’t care! It’s so funny!”

“And you’re so beautiful. And so full of life.”

The laughter quieted in Jean’s throat because she could hear the warm, yet serious tones in Jerry’s voice.

“And I want to kiss you, Miss Jean Harnett, but I can’t see your face in all this darkness.”

“Aim,” she said with a giggle, then broke out in fresh peals of laughter as his kiss landed on her nose.

“Let’s try that again,” he murmured, quite seriously now.

Jean quieted and raised her head.

They could’ve been using radar.

Suddenly, the porch light blazed on.

“What--” Jerry started.

Just as suddenly, the light died. Then it blazed on and off again. By that time, Jean and Jerry had to hold each other up from laughing so hard.

“We must be having an effect on the electrical circuits, Jean. I figured we could generate our own electricity, and now we have proof!”

“Oh, Jerry, the neighbors will be scandalized!” Jean managed to say between hoots of laughter.

“Not as much as my brother. It’s his car that’s parked in your driveway. The neighbors will think the old boy has finally thawed out.”

Jean stopped laughing. “Your brother! Oh, Jerry, people will think he’s the one up here with me! He’s going to kill us!”

“Let him! We’ll die in each other’s arms.” His voice became serious. “That wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, would it?”

This time his kiss was deeper and longer.

A short beep of the car horn broke them apart.

“Miss Harnett,” Jerry said, despite a problem with breathlessness. “I ain’t never gonna mean mouth teachers again. No way, no, ma’am.”

They tried to keep it light, neither one wanting to admit to the seriousness that they both felt.

“Well--” Jean murmured, playing with the collar of his coat. “I guess this is it--”

“And so we go bravely to our deaths!”

Jean giggled, glad that the lightness was back in their conversation. “Good night!”

“And it has been a good night for us, Jean. Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I have to work.”

“Only until four p.m.”

“That’s right. Only, make sure your car’s in better working order than tonight. I don’t believe that your brother can take two evenings in a row of rescuing us.”

The car horn beeped twice.

“By tomorrow evening, I may well not want to get rescued, Miss Harnett.”

“Get on with you now!” she said, pushing him, full well knowing the double meaning of his words. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He took two steps, then turned back. “You better check that porch light.” The moon shone on his face and he winked. “I think there’s a short in it.”

Jean barely managed to stumble inside the apartment before a spasm of laughter sent her reeling into the wall, and she grasped the door frame weakly. “What caused that light display?” she gasped out.

“Oh, Jean, I’m sorry,” Zoe answered. “I heard noises on the porch and pulled the curtain aside. Just then the light came on, and I saw you and Jerry kissing. I snapped off the light, but Mrs. D. must’ve also corrected, so the light came back on. I let her make the final correction. Sorry.”

“Never mind. No harm, except to our sides by laughing so hard. It happened,” she said, wiping at happy tears. “But Bob Cramer is going to be livid.”

 

Jean was standing in front of her classroom between classes the next morning when she saw Robert Cramer thundering her way, head lowered and his face glowering.

“Good morning, Mr. Cramer!” she greeted cheerfully, hoping he would imitate her lead.

But Cramer grabbed her elbow and propelled her around the corner into her classroom. “That’s my kid brother you’re messing with!”

“He’s a grown man, Mr. Cramer,” she said haughtily. “We’ve already discussed the age difference. Your brother is a grown man, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m not robbing the cradle.”

He looked around to see if anybody was watching them. “You’ll make a laughing stock out of yourself!” he hissed. “It’ll reflect on the school.”

“The only one it seems to be bothering is you, and it’s none of your business.”

“Anything one of my teachers does is my business.”

“Neither you nor the school owns me. For heaven’s sake, Bob, I met Jerry only two days ago. Our dating isn’t a conspiracy against you. We’re not planning to elope.”

Cramer’s face blanched white and his mouth dropped open. He couldn’t answer her.

Jean put her hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She looked at his lowered head as he fought to regain his composure. “What Paul did hurt you far more than you’ve admitted. It’s helped me to accept my anger.”

“He was my brother,” Cramer mumbled.

“And he still is. And Jerry’s your brother. I won’t hurt him. I’ll just give him the companionship he’s needing right now. He needs your help, too. You don’t want to lose him. I’d feel very proud and lucky if Jerry was my brother. Have him talk to you, Bob. Listen to him. It might help both of you.”

“There goes the class bell,” he mumbled. “Excuse me. I have a class.”

She watched him charge down the hall with his shoulders slumped. She wanted to tell him to straighten up and spit in the eye of the world. It hurt to see him so discouraged.

 

“Good evening, Miss Bergetti. Is Miss Harnett ready?”

“I’ll call her. Step inside if you wish, Mr. Cramer.”

“That’s all right. I’ll stay out here, if you don’t mind.”

Zoe turned and hurried toward the bedroom. “Jean! Mr. Cramer is here!” When Jean appeared, Zoe grabbed her arm and whispered, “Good luck, kid. He sounds like an old bear this evening.”

Jean rolled her eyes. After a full day of trying to avoid him, she wasn’t looking forward to his company tonight. But this was Wednesday, and they had to attend the regular educational meeting in Springfield.

“Good evening, Mr. Cramer,” she said as flatly as she could.

Cramer mumbled something and took out across the yard ahead of her. But he did hold the car door open for her.

“Thank you, Mr. Cramer.”

He grumbled something in reply and walked around the vehicle. Jean had never considered that someone used to speaking before groups could communicate in mumbling monosyllables. 

The first few miles passed in silence. Jean glanced at Cramer grasping the wheel. His compressed lips spoke of his anger. He couldn’t go through the whole evening acting like this. It wouldn’t be good for either of them.

“I understand that you’re taking a group of students to Springfield Saturday afternoon to see ‘To Sir, with Love.’”

“Yeah,” he growled at her, then he remembered his manners. “Yes. Yes, I am,” he answered in a more civilized voice. He seemed to relax, then he glanced at her. “I understand that you are seeing it Friday night with Jerry.”

“That’s right. We’ll tell you if it’s any good or not.”

“You can, if I’m still speaking to you.”

“For heaven’s sake, don’t be so petty!”

“Petty?!” His head shot around to glare at her, and he swerved the car.

“Mr. Cramer! Please! Watch the road! You steer to where you‘re looking! And the road isn‘t over here!”

“Sorry.” Grabbing for the wheel had defused him again. “I saw you two at the basketball game last night,” he said in a calmer voice.

“We saw you, too. You should’ve come on over and joined us.”

“And broken up the party? It looked like a private affair to me. Three’s a crowd, or haven’t you heard? Besides, I couldn’t leave my post.”

“Nobody was going to riot at a basketball game. Not in a small town like Woodstock. I just wanted you to know that Jerry and I were going to places with crowds of people present. Not much can go on there. You and I probably draw more suspicion.”

“Us?!”

“Why, sure. We go out of town every Wednesday night and return late. There’s a lot of motels in Springfield.”

“That sort of behavior never entered my mind!”

“Mine, neither. But some people might think it. That’s what you think I’m doing with Jerry, isn’t it? Compromising him? Just because I’m older doesn’t make me wanton. If that were true, how can you ever trust me with a classroom full of Freshmen boys?”

At last the ridiculous of her scenario registered, and he sighed. “I see your point.”

“Good.”

“Maybe I sound petty, but I’m worried about Jerry.”

“I know you are.”

He glanced at her. “You do?”

“Of course. I’m not totally blind to your concerns.”

Cramer concentrated on the road. “He needs to go back to school.”

“Perhaps he can’t.”

“He said he tangled with one of his professors. Not physically, but they had a philosophical difference of opinion. I told him that philosophy never put bologna sandwiches on the table or paid for Aunt Agatha’s bridgework. The professor is someone Jerry respects, though, and this argument is hurting him personally.”

“He acts like a clown, but he has deep, tender feelings. Sometimes I thinks he’s embarrassed by his tenderness.”

Cramer glanced at her. “How can you know so much about him in such a short amount of time?”

“I care for him.”

“If you cared for him, you’d turn him loose!”

“I know.”

“You do?” Cramer asked in amazement.

“Of course. I know that his little vacation is just a stop-gap. He can’t walk away from his life. He’ll grow restless and will want to go back. And I will miss him.”

Cramer glanced at Jean. “It’s going to happen to you again, isn’t it?”

“It seems to be my mission in life to be pals with your brothers, then send them on their merry way. You don’t have any others lurking in the wings, do you?”

“No,” he said with a laugh. He sounded as if a great load had been lifted from his shoulders. “And that’s too bad. Mother really seems to like you. The whole family does.”

You, too, she wondered idly, then wondered if she’d spoken aloud.

“Yes, me, too,” he said and answered her question. “I know sometimes I might give you a different impression, Miss Harnett. Sometimes you can be very frustrating, but I know that your heart’s in the right place. Sometimes your efforts are a little inept, but you see everything through.”

“Thank you.”

He could afford to be generous, she decided, now that he thought she was no longer a threat to his family.

What he didn’t realize, she thought deviously, was that Jean and Jerry could still date, even if they were miles apart. 

“I’ll do my part, Miss Harnett, if you’ll do yours. Neither one of us might not like our roles, but we have to remember that the important person to consider here is Jerry and his future.”

Jean wondered idly what he was babbling about, but she was too busy plotting a long-distance romance with Jerry to pay much attention to his dull brother.

 

Jean and Jerry sat on the sofa in her apartment that next Saturday afternoon, eating popcorn and watching figure skating on Wide World of Sports.

“I always feel so inferior when I watch them,” Jean said between bites. “They’re so graceful.”

“I know what you mean. They’re tremendous athletes. I can manage to skate around an ice arena, but that’s about it.”

She glanced at him. “You don’t go out to your grandparents’ place and ice skate on the pond?”

“Oh, sure, I can do that.” He gestured toward the television. “But I’m not in the same league with those guys.”

“Who is? That’s why they’re on TV, and we’re not.”

“That’s why I’ll be a high school coach and teach history, instead of playing pro football and/or interpreting the social progress of mankind with a startling new theory that would set all the academicians on their heels.”

“’Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.’”

“Something like that,” He sat up and faced Jean. The TV was forgotten. “It should be the golden rule of education, because no truer words were ever spoken.” He gave her a puzzled look. “That movie last night sure came around at the right time. Are you sure you didn’t plan it to happen that way?”

“To Sir, With Love?” she said as she reached over and turned off the TV. “The story of the trials and tribulations and REWARDS of teaching? No, I didn’t plan it. You were just ready to see it, that’s all. That’s because you’ve been thinking so hard about school and your future.”

“Very hard. I knew it’d been on Bob’s mind, too, and he wouldn’t let me dog off for very long. And I also knew I was in for one whale of a dressing down from him. That’s why I was so amazed Thursday night when he came into my bedroom to visit. I thought, ‘Oh, boy, lecture time. He’ll stand over me with his arms crossed and tell me to haul my stupid carcass back to school.’ But it didn’t happen that way. He sat on the bed beside me and drew me out. We even got to talking about my childhood and laughing. I’ve never felt closer to him or more equal. I think he enjoyed himself, too. When he’d come in, he’d acted like a martyr. Sad, even, like it really wasn’t his idea to be there, but he had to see it through. I kept thinking that you were behind it, Jeannie.”

“Me?!” She tried to act innocent. “Why would you think that?”

“Because Bob really wouldn’t have thought of it himself.” Jerry grinned. “Boy, Bob was right about you, wasn’t it? You’re a lousy actress.”

Jean started to protest, but Jerry grabbed her hand.

“It’s all right, honey. I love both of you for doing it. It was so nice to have him actually LISTEN to me for once, that I don’t care whose idea it was.” He released her hand and drew back. 

“Maybe he realizes that the age difference that once separated you two doesn’t apply anymore. Maybe he’s realizing how wonderful it is to have a brother named Jerry.”

“Did you give him a pep talk about me?”

“Me?! Why do you think he’d listen to me?”

“He listened to somebody. And it wasn’t Mother. I asked her. You’re the next logical choice.”

“I don’t know why you think I would.”

“Because you were the only other one there the night I got home. And because you’re right. You make sense.”

She laughed. “He wouldn’t think that.”

“My brother’s dull, but he’s not dumb. You’re a people person, Jean, and Bob’s bright enough to know that he isn’t. You may act like a flighty little scatterbrain, but you have your feet solidly on the ground. You’ve got horse sense, and anyone who listens to you is wise.”

“Then let’s see just how wise you are. Jerry, what are you doing home in the middle of the semester? You know it isn’t smart to leave school. Aren’t you afraid of getting drafted? You wouldn’t like Vietnam.”

“That’s why I have to go back to school, Jean, and eat some crow that isn‘t going to be very tasty. I have to apologize, to a certain professor.” He bit his lips together and looked at Jean warily. “And to a certain girl. We split up, but I keep thinking about her. I think I’m in love with her, and not even you can make me forget her. I‘m sorry, honey.”

She knew it. Somehow, she’d always known it. How come she was always catching Cramer men on the rebound? And they always carrying torches?

“Jean, you’ll never know how much I appreciated your companionship this week. You’ve given me stability and now the courage to do what has to be done. You and Bob have both helped me so much. I’ll always think the world of you, sweetheart,” he said as he hugged her.

But Jean was too numb to reply. How come his speech sounded like a replay of Paul’s? Was she doomed to play these scenes over and over again with the Cramer family? She wondered if they had male cousins who were unattached. Surely, in a small town where everyone was related to everyone else, there were bound to be other Cramer relatives. Perhaps, from now on, she would have to ask a prospective date how he was related to the Cramers. She could use it as one of her criteria for a beau.

“You’re angry.”

“Hmm? No, I’m not.” She grew introspective. “Stunned maybe, but not angry.”

“You’d have a right to be angry. Paul and I are heels.”

That statement got her full attention. “You and Paul are two of the nicest people I’ve ever met. I like you enough that I want both of you to be happy. I wish it was with me, though.”

“I just want you to know that if there had been no Carol--”

Her fingers touched his lips. “Shh! I know. I know, honey.”

“And when I go back to Carol, and if I find the magic is truly gone, I’ll be back.”

“I know that, too.” But she didn’t believe it.

“Because, if circumstances were otherwise--”

Jean looked up with tears threatening to spill out. “Always a bridesmaid--”

Jerry wrapped his arms around her and let her weep her bitter tears of self-pity.

“Why didn’t I meet you first? There’s a man waiting out there for you, honey. I just hope he’s bright enough to hang onto you.”

And I wonder why I haven’t found yet, she thought.

Jerry touched her button nose and grinned. “He’s probably just under there, and neither one of you knows it yet.”

Later, when Jean thought back over the parting, she considered how ironic it was that her boyfriends all professed to like her, but married other women. Always a bridesmaid, indeed! When would wedding bells ever ring for her? What if they never did? What if it had nothing to do with rotten luck, and it was just her?

She bit her lips together. She was intelligent. The evidence was there. Now she simply had to accept the truth that was glaring at her.

There must be something terribly wrong with her. 

 

“Did you know about Carol?” Jean asked Robert Cramer as he drove toward Springfield that next Wednesday evening.

“Not until after you did.”

Jean let her breath out noisily. That was one less thing she had to be angry with him about. Maybe he wasn’t as scheming as she thought.

“Jerry’s back in college,” Cramer offered.

“I figured he would be.”

“And I figured you’d know all about it. I want to thank you for whatever influence you used to persuade him to return.”

“Thank you.“ She decided to tell him something that he needed to know. “He needs a little praise from you, you know. He thinks an awful lot of his older brother, and praise coming from you right now would really bolster his ego.”

“First I have to listen to him, and now I have to praise him. What’s next on the agenda? Is my personal psychiatrist practicing again?” His words were sharp.

“Sorry. I know I’m on thin ice with this one, but you do seem to have trouble relating to your brothers.”

“And they’re both such great guys that any conflict between us must be my fault, right?”

“Is that a subtle hint to keep my mouth shut?”

“I wasn’t aware that I was being subtle,” he snapped.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

He pursed his lips. “I shouldn’t have spoken so sharply. You meant well.”

“It was family business. Your family, not mine.”

“You seem determined to be a friend of my family, no matter what I say or do. And my family seems determined to be friends with you. I guess that can’t be so bad. Besides, I’m fresh out of brothers that you can charm, so we won’t have to go through all of this trauma again. Maybe now we can concentrate on education.”

“I love teaching, Mr. Cramer, but I’m not a professional educator.”

“We’ll find something else to talk about then,” he spat out through clenched teeth.

“I hope you’re not too angry, Mr. Cramer. Then I don’t have to be so apprehensive. I can relax.”

“Too bad that isn’t reciprocal. Anybody who can relax around you must be either stupid or foolhardy.”

“Mr. Cramer!”

“You’re like a misbehaving student, except you’re in our midst, disguised as a teacher. You keep us on our toes.”

“At least I’m good for something! How long did it take for you to find that much good in me?!”

Cramer fought to control his temper. “I think we both need a rest, from talking and from my brothers, before we say something we’ll both regret.”

“Sounds fine to me!”

Cramer turned on the radio, and music filled the silence. Jean was a little mystified about why they were fighting, but it felt good to start putting distance between herself and Robert Cramer. She’d been battered by the Cramer family about as much as she cared to be, and she wanted as little to do with this one as she was able.

 

In the days that followed, Cramer became simply a colleague to Robert Cramer again. It was amazing how much freer Jean felt.

Jean checked ‘War and Peace’ out of the school library and plowed into it. Zoe raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say a word.


	7. March

It was the first Friday of March, and Brian Landis couldn’t be happier. Only March, April, May, and some of June remained in the school year, and then he would be free for nearly three glorious months of trout fishing in the Colorado Rockies. 

His mind was more on fishing than on driving as he walked toward the driver training car parked at the side of the school house. A light skiff of snow last night made the sidewalks slick so he’d have to caution the kids about not slamming on the car’s brakes. Ease into it, kids. Pretend that the streets are a raw egg, not hard boiled. In other words, handle the brakes with extreme care. 

Sophomore Jerry Malkus slid under the wheel and Brian was about to step into the car when he heard his name called.

“Just a minute, Jerry,” Brian said. “Somebody hollered at me.”

Jerry put his foot on the brake and eased the automatic gear shift into drive. Mr. Landis’s impatience always made Jerry nervous, and he wanted to be ready when the teacher gave him the word to go. Jerry tossed his Indian-black hair aside out of his eyes and waited.

“Well, what do you want, Ed?” Brian called to the approaching boy. Brian’s left leg was in the car, but his right leg remained standing on the gravel driveway. He leaned on the door and waited for the answer to his question.

“I’m glad I caught you, Mr. Landis!“

“That’s what you wanted?“ Brian asked, not even trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. It was all high drama with these kids, and it wasn’t limited to the girls.

“No,“ Ed said, understanding the teacher’s annoyance. “Miss Bergetti sent me. She says we can’t use the stage yet for shop and art display.”

“And why not?!” Brian thundered irritably. Blast that red head!

“She said Miss Harnett has started play practice.”

Bless that red head! She knew he wouldn’t willingly step on Jean’s toes.

“Oh,” Landis said softly. “I forgot.”

Suddenly the car shot forward. Brian Landis was flung to the ground and rolled violently in the coarse gravel. The boy with the message yelled and side-stepped while Jerry threw on the car’s brakes, spewing more gravel over Landis’s inert body. A horrible silence followed.

“Mr. Landis?” Ed said tentatively as he looked down at the motionless body on the ground. “Are you alright?”

Then the door to the schoolhouse burst open. Students and faculty alike poured outside and gathered around the fallen teacher.

“I was just opening my locker when I heard the thud,” said a white-faced girl.

“But did you have to scream like that?” demanded the boy beside her. “I wanted to grow a couple more inches. My hair may even turn white now.”

“We’ll be late to class,” another girl noted.

“What class?” another boy asked. “Most of the teachers are out here.”

Landis stirred and rolled over on his back. His face and clothes were covered with rock dust and blood. He raised himself on one elbow and looked at the crowd.  
“Well?” he demanded.

But no paid him any attention.

“What happened here, anyway?” Coach Walsh asked as he rushed up.

“Jerry tried to run down Mr. Landis,” Ed answered. “I saw it all.”

Walsh frowned. “Looks like he did a pretty good job of it.”

“Aw, I coulda done better,” a punkish looking boy sneered. “I’da kilt him.”

“Yeah,” one of his buddies retorted. “You, and what army?”

“--I thought he said ‘go,’” Jerry was saying. “You know how mad he gets if he has to repeat anything, Miss Paget. I wondered why he wanted to go when he wasn’t even in the car yet, but--”

“Is everyone going to let me just lie here and die?” Brian demanded.

Zoe pushed through the crowd, bent to her knees, and put her arms around the struggling man’s shoulders. “It sounds pleasant, Landis, but I doubt if we’ll be that lucky today.”

“Then stop choking me, woman, and help me up!” He tried to sit up, put his hand to his head, and sank back into Zoe’s arms. “Oh, boy! Does my head hurt!” He shook his head to clear it, then screwed his eyes shut against the pain. “Wow! Is it possible to be this dizzy?” He took a deep breath and said in a determined voice, “Help me up, Red.”

“No!” she said, just as determined. “You’re going to lie here until a doctor comes. You might be seriously hurt.” With her hankie, she spit on it and dabbed at the blood and mud on his scoured face.

His eyes opened and blazed blue fire at her. “Now, stop that!” he demanded as he grabbed her wrist. “Who asked you to give me a spit bath?!”

“Be still! You might hurt yourself further.”

“Listen, if I lie here very much longer on this damp ground, I’ll need to be treated for pneumonia!”

“You’re lying still!” She placed her hand gently, but firmly on his chest.

“Of all the stupid--” Landis gritted his teeth in anger, but stopped his struggling.

“What happened?” a grim-faced arrival demanded.

“Jerry tried to kill Landis, Mr. Cramer.”

“I’da kilt him.”

“I saw it all. He--”

“I thought he said ‘go.’”

“Look at the blood. So much blood.” The white-faced locker slammer started getting sick.

“Jeez! What next?!” demanded the boy she’d deafened.

“Help her, you idiot!” demanded one of her friends who shook her head at the boy, then led the locker slammer away. “Come on, Cassie. Let’s get away from here.”

“Let’s help Landis up!”

“Hold it, hold it,” Cramer said. “He can’t be moved. Marcia, go call Dr. Albright. Mr. Landis, are you all right?”

“I’ll live if this Amazon ever stops trying to choke me! Looks like she could give a dying man some air.” He looked up at Cramer. “Ever notice how a minor accident brings out the maternal instinct in some women?”

“Can you tell if anything’s broken?” Cramer wanted to know.

“I don’t think so. But it isn’t because that hoodlum didn’t try. The way he rolled me, I should be a cripple for life. But if I’m lucky, my limp won’t even be noticeable.”

Exasperated with him, Zoe muttered, “Don’t go on so! The only place you’re crippled is in your mind.”

“Be quiet, woman!” He passed his free hand over his bleary eyes and stared absently at the blood. “I leave you with these, my last words.” He glanced at his audience. “Jerry Malkus has flunked driver’s training.”

“But!” Jerry protested. “I thought you said ‘go’!”

A faint smile floated over Brian’s thin lips, and he glanced up at the sky. “Now I can die in peace. My conscience is clear. You know--” His words stopped, and a queer, bewildered look crossed his face. “My God, I think I am dying!” Landis turned a scared face toward Zoe and his hand settled on her shoulder. “Zoe, there’s one thing you gotta know,” he said earnestly. “I, I--” The breath started to rush out of his lungs, and he struggled to finish as his fingers bore into her flesh. “I l--” But he could speak no more. With a soft moan, his eyes closed and his bloody face nestled deeply against Zoe’s white blouse.

“Mr. Cramer! Mr. Cramer! He’s dead!”

Cramer knelt quickly and, taken by Zoe’s panic, placed his hand on Brian’s chest. “He’s passed out, Miss Bergetti. That’s all. He was exaggerating about dying.”

“Oh!” She started to push Landis out of her arms, but Cramer restrained her.

“Careful! Remember that he’s been injured. He may even have a concussion, by the way he’s acting.”

Zoe stared up at Cramer. “You mean, erratically?” She frowned and looked back at Brian. “That’s normal for him.” Zoe’s hand fluttered out and stroked his head gently and protectively. “He was right. He could have been killed.” She looked up and angry tears glistened in her warm brown eyes. “Jerry Malkus is a public menace!”

Jerry turned away with a deep sigh.

“Teenagers shouldn’t be allowed to drive,” Zoe continued with her tirade. “Those damn kids!”

“Miss Bergetti!” Cramer cautioned. “Calm yourself. I know you’re upset. We all are. But we must restrain ourselves. There are students present.”

Zoe, shamefaced, looked down at the unconscious Landis. “Now you have to give us a toothy grin.” When he continued to lie silently in her arms, a worry line crossed her brow and she held him tighter. “Where’s that doctor?”

The doctor arrived, gave Brian a cursory exam, and called the Davis Mortuary for an ambulance to take Landis to the Springfield Hospital. As Landis was being loaded up, Doc Albright said, “Someone should go with him.” His hand stopped Zoe as she passed him. “I’m sorry, Miss Bergetti. Don’t get in the ambulance. I meant for you to follow in a car.”

“But I could ride with you--”

“No, you can’t, Zoe. I want to examine him more thoroughly.”

She blushed. “Oh.” She headed toward her car.

“Go with her, Miss Harnett,” Cramer directed. “She’s too upset to drive. I’ll come up there as soon as I can.”

“All right.” Jean hurried after her friend. “Zoe, wait! I’m going with you! Get in my car!”

“Well, hurry!” Zoe said, irritably.

Jerry Malkus walked up to Cramer. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cramer. Have I really flunked driver’s training?”

“Not now, Jerry. We’ll talk later.” He saw the boy grimace and turn away. “Wait. I’m sure something can be worked out. Mr. Landis was upset. But you must realize the gravity of this accident.”

“I do, Mr. Cramer. But I gotta pass driver’s training. I want to be a highway patrolman when I get out of school.”

That was going to take a miracle, Cramer thought. But, still, we must have our dreams.

Cramer patted Jerry’s arm. “Go on to study hall. I’m sure that something can be worked out.”

Jerry smiled in relief. “Thank you, Mr. Cramer.”

As Jerry Malkus hurried away, Cramer could only wonder at the boy’s chances in the highway patrol. Still, rougher teens had eventually settled down and had become good patrolmen in time. Jerry Malkus could, also.

Cramer decided that he would try to help the boy. 

 

Hours later, Jean sat in a dimly lit hospital room. The straight-back chair had become hard and uncomfortable. She scooted this way and that, and at last stood and wandered toward the window. She glanced at the bed and saw no change in Brian. He was still unconscious.

Fog formed as her warm breath hit the cold window. Jean looked through the Venetian blinds at the city spread below her. Neon lights leaped and danced in the freezing night air. And cars still crept along the icy streets although it was now long past midnight.

Jean thought she heard a noise, turned, and saw Landis struggling with his covers.

“What is this?! Where in the devil am I?!”

“Brian, lie still,” Jean ordered as she rushed to his side. “You’re in the Springfield Hospital.”

“Wow! My head hurts,” he said as he touched the bandage on it.

“It should. You’ve got a slight concussion. Now, lie back. The doctor says that you’re not to get excited.”

“What other damage is there?” he asked as he closed his eyes.

“Bruises. Skinned places all over. And your face is a mess. Nothing’s broken, but you’re going to hurt for awhile.“ She grimaced. “Do you feel just awfully rotten?”

“I felt great until I woke up. I was having the most beautiful dream.” He smiled, then opened his eyes. “Hey, where’s that red-headed Amazon? Or is she out celebrating?”

“Zoe? She went downstairs for coffee.”

He frowned. “She doesn’t drink coffee.”

“She started last night.”

“Last night?! What time is it, anyway?”

“Lie still, and I’ll tell you.” She glanced at her watch. “Just past 3 a.m.”

“Oh, boy! Have I had a sleep.” He stole a look at her tired face. “Bet I’m the only rested one around here.”

“You surely are. You scared the devil out of us, acting like you were dying and then passing out so dramatically. How could we rest until we found out if you were going to live?”

Brian looked sheepish. “Sorry about that. But at the time, I wasn’t too sure myself. Things started getting pretty dark.”

“Oh, by the way, you owe Zoe a toothy grin.”

“What do you mean? Our bet? Hey! Don’t tell me she cussed out somebody?!”

“Teenagers in general, and Jerry Malkus in particular.”

“Wish I could’ve heard that.”

“Well, you were close enough.”

He played without he sheet. “Uh, I bet I owe her a new blouse, too. She probably wants to wring my neck for bleeding all over her like that.”

“Brian--” Jean fingered the water pitcher on the bedside table. “I don’t know why you think Zoe would be out celebrating your accident. She doesn’t hate you, but you do irritate her sometimes.” Jean pursed her lips. “Oh, Brian, why don’t you and Zoe get along? You should be friends.”

Brian withdrew into his crusty shell. “I told you at Christmas that it didn’t concern you.”

“But Zoe was frantic yesterday. She thought you were actually dying.”

“I FELT like I was dying.” He twisted the sheet in his hands. “I don’t know why we fight. Maybe she sees too much of what I really am inside.”

“That you’re a great guy who really cares for the kids when you want them to think that you hate them? Oh, Brian, anyone who loves you can see that.”

“Let’s not get sticky about it. Don’t go romantic on me, Harnett. I can’t stand all that sentimentality. Red roses, sterling silver, fireplaces, fluffy kittens. It’s impossible to be pessimistic around you.”

“Please talk with Zoe.”

“What is it you want, anyway? You’ll spoil our fun.”

“Fun?! Brian, she cries at night.”

He looked concerned. “Cries? But that’s silly. Our little spats shouldn’t bother her that much.”

“Something is making her sad.”

“This conversation is ridiculous.” He crossed his arms.

“Having it with me is.” He held up her hand. “Wait. I hear someone coming. It must be Zoe.”

The door opened slowly and Zoe shuffled inside. Her face was washed out, and she looked years older than she was. But that was what worry, lack of sleep, and too much caffeine did to a person.

“Zoe, look who’s back with the world of the living,” Jean said.

Zoe seemed to perk up when she saw that Brian was awake, and her dull eyes cleared.

“Coffee break over?” Brian greeted.

“That stuff is rotten. I don’t know how anyone in their right mind could drink it.”

“Are you admitting something about your mental state?”

But Zoe didn’t take the bait. “I’ll take over for awhile, Jean. Mr. Cramer is still in the waiting room. He wouldn’t leave. I told him we’d let him know when there was a change in the patient. You can tell him that Landis is just as sarcastic as ever.”

“Okay, I’ll go on down and talk to him. Take care, Brian. I’ll see you later.”

The door closed behind Jean, and the room quieted. Zoe crossed her arms and walked slowly around.

“Your blouse is dirty, Bergetti.”

She didn’t even glance down. “It should be. You bled all over it.”

“I’ll buy you another one.”

“It was a birthday present from my uncle.”

“The one in Wyoming?”

“I have only one uncle.” She stopped at the window and played with the Venetian blind cords. “Landis do you remember much about the accident?”

“I was there, remember?”

“Do you remember what you said?”

“I think I said quite a bit.”

“You don’t remember,” she mumbled as she released the cord.

“To what part of my final speech do you have reference?”

“Jean was right. You were only teasing.”

“Blast it, girl! What are you talking about?!” He fought for control. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Can you be a little more specific?”

Zoe stared out the window at the frozen night as she picked up the Venetian blind cord again. “Right before you passed out, you tried to tell me something. There was one thing you wanted me to know, but you couldn’t get beyond ‘I.’ And you called me ‘Zoe.’”

Brian wrinkled his brow and shifted nervously. “Oh. Yeah. I remember that. I thought that was part of my dream.” He shook his hand in the air, as though he were dismissing the thought. “It was nothing important. I lived, so there’s no need to know my final words to you.”

Zoe banged the blinds against the window, startling Brian. “Why? Why?!” she demanded. “Why must you be so cynical?” Tears shone in her eyes, and hysteria echoed in her rising voice. She bit her lips together and shook her head in disgust. “Fighting with you isn’t fun anymore. I’m sick of it!” She started for the door. “I’m getting out of here! Sorry I’m bothering you!”

“Zoe, don’t leave,” he said quietly.

She stopped at the door, but didn’t turn back.

“Zoe, come here.” He patted the bed. “Come and sit by me. I can‘t follow you if you run out of here. And I really want to talk to you. Be a pal. Okay?”

His voice was so quiet and calm, she obeyed.

“This has been a pretty rough night for you, hasn’t it?” he asked softly.

Zoe nodded and stared at her folded hands.

Brian’s hand closed over hers. “I’m sorry, Red. I should be kicked from here to Sunday for scaring you. I know you were worried about me, and I appreciate it. I’m glad that I’ve got friends like you and Jean to watch out for me.” He squeezed her hands. “And as for what I was trying to tell you, well, we’ll just forget it, okay?” he asked softly.

Zoe looked up and her sad eyes gazed steadily into his. “I can’t do that,” she whispered. “Not now.”

“Honey, you’re going to have to,” he whispered back. “And I think you better leave.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he answered as forcefully as he could, which sounded insincere even to his ears.

Zoe’s face slowly softened with a smile, and Landis realized he wasn’t fooling her one bit. He watched helplessly as she reached out to touch his face.

“Just a little gravel--”

Then she was crying, and his arms were around her.

“It won’t work, Red. You’re crazy.” 

But she clung to him, and then he didn’t want her to leave. He just wanted to stop her tears. And besides, it felt so good to have her cradled in his arms. Why should he fight what he was feeling?

“Okay, so we’re both crazy.” He patted her shiny auburn hair and his voice became tender with concern. “Zoe. Zoe, baby, don’t. Don’t cry.”

“You scared the hell out of me, Brian Landis!”

“Shh. I know. It’s okay. Don’t cry, honey. I’ll be all right.”

Her head shot up. “You better be, that’s all I can say.” She leaned toward him and kissed his bruised cheek.

“Aw, that hurt, woman!” He grinned at her with the big, toothy grin she’d waited so long to see. “But do it again,” he murmured and she happily complied. Only this time she aimed for his lips, and he returned her kiss. Deeply.

His big, toothy grin glowed all the way through him. He was back in his beautiful dream. And she was there with him, right where he wanted her to be.

 

Jean found Cramer sitting alone in the small waiting room, dropped down beside him on the brown leather couch, and sighed.

“Tired?” he asked.

She nodded and pulled her coat tighter. “And cold. Thanks for bringing our coats. I guess we left Woodstock pretty fast.”

“I thought you’d need them. Why, you’re shaking! Here. Allow me.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Better?”

“Hmm,” she said as she nestled against his shoulder. “That feels good.”

“Relax. You’ve been under a tension for hours.” He held her for long, quiet moments. “Better?”

“Yes,” she murmured. “Much better. Now I wish I had some coffee.”

“I forgot.’ He pulled his arm away, leaned toward a lamp table, and handed her a cup. “I brought this for you from downstairs. It’ll help, too.”

‘Thanks,” she said, taking a sip of the coffee. “I always get cold when I’m tired. But I’m too keyed up to sleep. It helps, though, that Brian is finally awake.”

“He is? How is he feeling?”

“Pretty sore, he said, but he’s not as groggy as I thought he’d be with a concussion.”

“That’s good.” Cramer sighed. “This is going to be hard enough to explain.”

Jean looked at him. “But it was an accident. It wasn’t your fault. Nobody could possibly blame you. Besides, you shouldn’t even be here. You look exhausted.”

“I think it is catching up with me since I’m sitting still. Now that I know that Mr. Landis has awakened, I expect I could go back to Woodstock.”

Jean bristled. “No! You’re going nowhere!”

“But I really do need to be getting back,” he said defensibly.

“You’re tired! You‘ll go to sleep at the wheel!”

“I could roll the window roll. The cold air would revive me.”

“No! Honestly! You men! We already have one of you in the hospital. We don’t want any more of you injured. Now that you’re here, you’re staying!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly.

“I guess I did sound a little bossy, didn’t I?” she said sheepishly. “But you’re more tired than you realize, and somebody has to make you mind. Why don’t you try to get some sleep and when you’re rested, then you can go back to Woodstock.”

“That sounds like a good plan, Miss Harnett.” He grinned shyly with a smile that was both genuine and disarming. “And, thank you for caring about what happens to me.”

Jean felt a sudden rush of feeling, and she realized that she really did care what happened to him. He was, after all, a part of her world now, and she would miss him if he no longer was in it. Maybe they really were friends. She decided that was all right, too.

“Get your rest now,” she ordered, but she said it with a gentle smile and her hand pressed softly on his forearm. “Me, I’ll just stand guard for awhile.” She picked up a magazine and started flipping through the pages.

Cramer folded his arms and scooted down on the couch beside her. Somewhere in the last few minutes, they’d forgotten to be indifferent to each other. Now a companionable island of well being surrounded them, and they knew it came from facing this crisis together.

Jean read a light romance and was starting an article on Puerto Rico when Cramer’s head rolled onto her shoulder. Jean turned with a start and stared at him. He looked so peaceful. She hated to disturb him. Tired at last, she lay her head against his and went to sleep.

Blinding light shone in her eyes as a nurse raised the Venetian blind to let in the morning sunshine. Jean turned her head, recoiled, and stared into Cramer’s equally startled eyes only inches away from her face.

“I, I’m sorry, Miss, ah, Miss, ah....”

They sprung apart.

“What time is it, anyway?” Jean wanted to know.

He glanced at his watch. “7:15. I’m going down for coffee. Want some?”

“I’ll check on Brian first and be right down.”

Brian was awake and watching Zoe as she slept in a chair.

“Morning, princess,” he said to Jean. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” He nodded toward Zoe’s curled up figure. “The nurse wanted her to leave, but Zoe wouldn’t budge.”

“You must feel better this morning, Brian.”

“I’ll live, and it’ll be worth it.” He grinned. “We, ah, had a talk. Why fight something that I’m in favor of?”

Jean grinned back. “I’m glad. Mr. Cramer and I are going down for coffee. We’ll check on you later.”

 

Cramer pushed a cup of steaming coffee toward her as she piled down beside him in the hospital cafeteria.

“Well, how’s the patient this morning?”

“He seems in good spirits, but I want to hear what the doctor says about Brian.”

“Want some breakfast? Sweet rolls? Bacon and eggs?”

“I couldn’t eat. I have no appetite.”

“You need to unwind. Let’s go downtown and window shop.”  
“Oh, but we couldn’t! I have to stay. The doctor--”

“The doctor won’t do rounds for awhile.”

“But you have to get back to Woodstock.”

“I’m as interested as you are about Mr. Landis.”

“But--”

“Come along,” he said, taking her arm. “Doctor’s orders. If you can practice medicine without a license, so can I.”

Jean blinked in the bright sunshine and drew her coat close against the sharp wind. She was grateful for Cramer’s firm hand on her elbow as he propelled her down the sidewalk.

“But you’ll be giving up your Saturday--”

“Aren’t you?”

“Sure, but Brian’s my friend.” She realized what she was saying. “I mean--”

His hand and mouth tightened. “I know only too well what you mean. Do you know what is worse than being an ogre, Miss Harnett? It’s being one and not knowing it. But I’m starting to realize what I am to others. What a bore I must be!”

“But realization is half the cure,” she muttered.

“That’s what I’m told. Paul’s tried to help for years, but I couldn’t understand what he meant. Then someone started showing me quite graphically how boorish I am.”

“Who?”

“You.”

“Me?!” She stopped, but he tugged her forward. She followed. “But I--”

“Maybe you didn’t intend to, but you did. I never knew anyone could do goofy things and get by with them like you do. Not only that, you’re still respected. And LOVED! People love you.”

“Oh--”

“They do! They seem to love a nut like you. Please, I’m not being flippant. You’re a nice nut.”

“That’s nice to know. Now, when Daddy asks me what people in Woodstock think of me, I’ll tell him they think I’m a nut.”

“And after having known you for some twenty-odd years, he’ll know exactly what I meant.”

She squinted as she looked up at him. “My, you’re in an agreeable mood this morning.”

“It’s not every morning that I wake up on the shoulder of a pretty girl.”

“I’d certainly hope not!” She grabbed his arm and dragged him to a furniture store window. “Look at that bedroom suite! I simply adore walnut, don’t you?”

“It’s okay, but I prefer maple.”

“Oh? You like Early American or Colonial then. Do you realize how much dusting is involved on one captain’s chair leg? All those curves and round knobs are dust catchers, you know. Now, a modern walnut leg is straight and can be dusted in one stroke.”

“Interested in furniture, are you?”

“Sure,” she answered as they continued their walk. “I’m buying a bedroom suite this summer. It’ll be part of my hopeless chest.”

“Got any prospects who will be using that suite with you, or only hoping?” he teased.

“I’ll never tell!” she teased back.

“Oh, come now. You and Craig Martin are pretty good friends, aren’t you?” There was a new sharp edge to his voice.

“W-e-l-l-l--”

“Fess up!” His voice had definitely lost its bantering tone.

“Yes,” she said slowly. She could tell he was getting angry. “In fact, you might call us more than that.”

“Like one of the family?” he snapped.

“Y-yes,” she stammered, bewildered by his sudden bitterness. “Just, ah, like one of the family.” She stumbled along beside him, trying to figure out what she’d said wrong. Maybe he didn’t know about Brenna. She tried to talk, but her words sounded awkward even to her. “Mr. Cramer, you know very well that Craig is seeing m--”

He turned abruptly and cut her off. “All I know is that you’re freezing. Your teeth are chattering. Come on, let’s go into this restaurant and warm up. Would you like something to eat now?” he asked as he seated her.

The thought of food and the change of subject cheered her. “Oh, yes! I’m starved! I guess I just needed some exercise.”

“The cold at least put color back in your cheeks. You look more alive now.”

“Thank you for the compliment, kind sir.” She frowned. “Or was it? It’s not very flattering to be compared to a corpse, you know.”

She laughed merrily, and he joined in, too.

“Bacon and eggs for two,” he told the waitress.

The young girl grinned back at him.

“Did you see that?” he asked Jean. “That girl smiled at me.”

“Sure. She returned your smile.”

“But I didn’t realize I was smiling--”

“You were. And a moment ago, you were laughing, in case you hadn’t realized it. You ought to try that more often. It makes you quite charming, you know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t St. Patrick’s Day yet, Miss Harnett, but your Irish blarney is showing through. Charming, indeed!”

It was evident that he was enjoying himself.

Their food made them both amiable and carefree. What a nice change from Cramer’s bitterness when they’d discussed Craig.

Back on the street again, they noticed that the clouds were thickening.

“It’s going to snow again,” Cramer predicted.

“And soon,” Jean said in wonder. “Look! There’s a snowflake now!” She pointed at a solitary flake drifting gently down. “And another! Oh, isn’t it beautiful?”

Cramer glanced down at the girl holding onto his arm. Like a child, her eyes shone with wonder and excitement. To him, the snow meant more bad roads and delayed buses. To her, it was crystal loveliness from a fairy castle. Somehow, he wished he could see snow her way.

“Brian’s better and the weather is perfect!” Jean said with enthusiasm. “It’s going to be a wonderful day!”

“And I can’t think of any other person I’d rather spend it with.”

With a coy look, she arched her eyebrow. “Thank goodness I’m a person.”

“Not just anybody would put up with my moods.”

“Thank goodness I’m not just anybody.”

He glanced at her. “Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

She kept the coy look on her face.

“All right, just what was it you were trying to get me to say back in December after the Stoneman affair? That I didn’t want anything bad to happen to a friend?”

She smiled. “Bingo! Now, was that so hard to say? Is it such a chore to be my friend?”

He arched an eyebrow. “On any given day, Miss Harnett?”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he grinned broadly.\  
“No, Miss Harnett, it isn’t.”

She returned his broad grin. “I think I’m going to like you a whole lot better this way.” She grabbed his arm. “Come on! Let’s go see how Brian is.”

 

“Stop fussing over me, woman!” Brian demanded as Zoe tucked a blanket around his legs as he sat in an easy chair in his apartment.

“If you get hard to handle, I’ll put you back in the hospital.”

“Jean! Help! She’s mothering me to death!”

“Sorry, Brian,” Jean answered with a laugh. “We all heard the doctor tell you to take it easy for a few days.”

“He didn’t intend that I’d get smothered in the process! The cure will kill me.”

“Get used to it,” Zoe said. “I’ll be over here tomorrow to make sure you’re eating right. And I don‘t mean toaster pastries and peanut bars!”

“I can’t talk you out of that, either, can I, Red?”

Zoe crossed her arms. “Nope.”

Brian grinned. “Then I know I’ll get better,” he said softly. “You’re going to be the best medicine in the world for me.”

Zoe uncrossed her arms. “Don’t go all sentimental and mushy on me, Landis. I can take anything, but that.”

“You won’t let me appreciate you?”

“I might allow that.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Zoe raised an eyebrow. “You’re easily pleased.”

“Yeah,” he murmured.

A soft smile passed between them, and Jean felt like an outsider.

 

The monotonous droning of the engine was the only sound in Cramer’s car as they headed for the Wednesday night educational meeting in Springfield. Jean hadn’t watched the weather at first, but now she was intently gazing at the falling snow all around them. Flakes whirled toward them and would have smashed into their faces if it hadn’t been for the windshield. Jean stared into the snow, and she began to feel drowsy, drowsy--

How could Cramer drive through this stuff and stay awake? Jean looked at him and saw the hard determination on his face. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head against the hypnotizing snow.

“It’s getting heavier, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Cramer answered. “I think we’re heading into it. I’d turn around, but we’re closer to Springfield than home now. I need some diversion. See if you can get that radio to work.”

She fumbled with the knobs, but got nothing but static.

“Good, old dependable radio,” he mumbled. 

“Well, if it’s entertainment you’re wanting, I’ll sing. ‘I’m dreaming of a white Christmas--’”

“Very funny.”

But he didn’t object strongly to the Christmas songs until she sang “’--let it snow, let it snow, let it snow--’”

“Must you sing about snow? Don’t you know any warm weather songs?”

“Sure. ‘On a picnic morning, without a warning, I looked at you, and somehow I knew. On a day for singing, my heart went winging, a picnic role was our rendezvous.’”

“What’s wrong? Why stop there?”

“I can’t remember the words,” she lied. “I’ll sing another song.” She was suddenly embarrassed to sing the rest of the love song to him.

“Nonsense! How could you forget? ‘You and I in the sunshine--’” he began in a rich tenor.

She stared at him. “You sing?!”

“I am, aren’t I? Well, come on,” he urged.

“’You and I in the sunshine,’” he sang and she joined in. “’We strolled the fields and farms. In the last light of evening, I held you in my arms--’”

Before long, they topped a long hill, and Cramer exhaled noisily. 

“At last! Springfield!” Jean declared in relief. “What a beautiful sight. Now we have to worry about getting home.”

“First things first, Miss Harnett. We aren’t in Springfield yet.”

As if to demonstrate for her, the car started sliding. Cramer fought the wheel and held the car on the slippery road.

Jean let out her breath. “Good go, champ.”

Suddenly, in the whirling white mass, a black object appeared in the center of the road right in front of them.

“Bob! Look out! It’s a snow plow!”

Cramer spun the wheel, avoided the plow by inches, lost control, and threw his right arm out to protect Jean as the Ford flew into the ditch.

All was quiet as they sat stunned. Cramer had trouble associating the snow and the accident with himself. Surely he was watching this happening to someone else.

Then someone pounded on the window, and an anxious face stared in at Cramer. “Are you folks okay in there?”

Cramer rolled down the window and the cold, snow-laden air refreshed him. “I, I think so. I’m just a little dazed,” he said as he shook his head to clear it.

“The little lady doesn’t look so good, mister.”

Cramer spun. Jean was slumped against her window.

“Jean?!” Cramer shook her shoulder. “Jean? Are you alright?! Jean! Wake up!”

“H-m-m?” she moaned.

“Jean! Are you all right?! I thought I stopped you.”

“You did,” she mumbled from the depths of her hands. “You really stopped me.”

Cramer grabbed her shoulder. “Let me see.”

She released her head and it rolled toward him. Blood was seeping from the corner of her mouth, and a big purple bruise was rising on her chin.

“My God! What did you hit?!”

“I didn’t hit anything,” she said and opened her eyes, glistening with tears. “When you put out your arm to stop me, you slugged me right in the jaw. You’ve got quite a punch there, mister.”

“But you’re bleeding--”

“Oh, I bit my tongue.” She sniffed. “It always gets in the way.”

Cramer turned to the snowplow operator. “Can you get my car out? I want to get my friend to a doctor as soon as possible.”

“My tractor’s dead. That’s why my lights were out. I was about to call when I saw you go off the road. I got a short wave hookup in the tractor. I’ll call for help now.”

Soon help came. The car, chained to a wrecker, lunged backwards and Cramer fought to straighten the wheel.

“We’re out, Miss Harnett. I’m going to take you to a doctor’s now,” he said as he drove into Springfield.

“Never mind. Just take me home.”

“But we can’t. The highway men said the road’s closed to Woodstock. We’ll have to stay in Springfield tonight.”

“Oh, yeah?” she mumbled. “I’ve heard that one before.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m a very honorable man.” He finally pulled to the curb. “A doctor lives here.”

A shriveled, sour-looking man in his early fifties answered the door. He scratched his thinning hair and stared through his glasses at Jean and then at Cramer.

“What did you do, Mister? Sock your wife?”

“Yes, I did, but she isn’t my wife. Sit here, Jean,” Cramer directed, as he settled Jean in a chair.

“Oh?” The doctor examined Jean’s face, then turned his critical stare on Jean. “One of those cases, eh? A little hanky-panky on the side?”

“It is nothing of the sort!” Cramer protested. “We were on our way to a meeting and ran off the road. We have to stay in Springfield tonight. Can you recommend a good hotel where we can get reasonable, but decent, rooms?”

 

“Rooms? Won’t one do?”  
Cramer sputtered, but Jean shook her head. “Forget it, dear.” She spoke directly to the doctor. “We try to have a night out and look what happens. His wife is so horrible to him, doctor. We just wanted a few hours to ourselves, and then we had that awful accident. Now our evening is r-ruined.” She started weeping.

“There, there, little lady,” the doctor soothed as he patted Jean’s shoulder. “It’ll seem a lot better after you get some rest.” He handed a packet of pills to Cramer. “See that she takes one of these before she retires. Now, you go down to the Hotel Springfield and say that Doc Chaney sent you. The manager is a friend. He’ll get you a room.”

Cramer paid the doctor and helped Jean to the door.

“Take good care of that little lady, mister.”

Cramer grumbled under his breath as he led Jean toward his car.

“H-m-m?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he spat out.

He drove silently down the snowy streets.

“What’s wrong, Butch? Mad at me? I only let the good doctor hear what he wanted to hear.” She got no response. “Oh, come on. Be a sport. Did I have a fit when you socked me?”

His face eased. “I guess not. But I don’t like to have people thinking the worst of me.”

“But you won’t make as much of an impression if you agree. He won’t remember you as readily. He’ll believe what he wants, anyway. Besides, it was fun.”

“That might be your idea of fun, but--”

“Don’t you ever relax and laugh, just for the silliness of it?”

“What would be the value of that?”

“Well, if you don’t know, I sure can’t explain it.”

One step inside the Hotel Springfield told Cramer that it was a second-class hotel, but he couldn’t drag Jean all over Springfield looking for another place.

“Yeah?” The short, greasy man behind the desk fingered a wispy mustache as he studied Cramer.

“We want two rooms, please.”

“Won’t one do?”

“We’d rather have two.”

“I have none.”

Jean was bored with the conversation. Besides, she wanted to lie down. “Doc Chaney sent us.”

“Oh, you’re the two.” The clerk grabbed a key. “This way.”

“I thought you had no rooms,” Cramer said.

“After Doc Chaney called, I saved one for you.”

They got into an ancient elevator that creaked and groaned until it deposited them on the fifth floor.

The greasy little man led the way down a dimly lit hall and opened a door with much pomp. “Our finest,” he announced with a flourish of his hand.

But Cramer wasn’t interested. He scanned the double bed, dresser, and frayed, over-stuffed chair. “This will do for Miss Harnett. And now where’s the other room?”

“How many rooms do you need, mister? Honeymooners generally want the bridal chamber, so here it is.”

“Honeymooners?! Bridal chamber?!”

“I thought that’d be a nicer name for it. Speaking of names, what name are you using?”

“Why, Robert Cramer, my real name!”

“Sure. Sure. Cramer. Sure shows more imagination than John Smith.”

“But I AM Robert Cramer, and she is not my wife! Or, or, whatever! And we need separate rooms!”

“Don’t have another room, mister. Helluva snowstorm out there, in case you hadn‘t noticed.” 

“I noticed!“ Cramer thundered. “That’s why we are here! The snowstorm! And we want separate rooms!“

The clerk eyed Cramer. “Doc Chaney said you’d be cantankerous.” He poked Cramer in the ribs and winked. “Tell you what. Just PRETEND that you’re married. The little lady doesn’t look like much with that beaten up face, but the ugly ones are always grateful. Have a little fun.”

“Why is everyone so interested in my having fun?!”

“Forget it,” Jean suggested as she grabbed Cramer’s arm and pulled him toward the room. “Thank you, innkeeper. You’ve been very considerate, and you’ll never know how much we appreciate your hospitality.” She smiled sweetly at the manager and closed the door.

Cramer shook his head. “Lordy, Lord! I feel like I’m in the middle of a nightmare! I’ve suddenly developed a lot of understanding for my brothers when they got into those crazy messes with you. You really do draw trouble, don’t you?”

Jean chose not to answer that question. “It must be a family hotel,” she said, looking around. “Did you see that group of people watching television in the lobby? And that woman talking on the hall phone downstairs was wearing only a bathrobe. She didn’t even blush when she saw you.”

“It’s a dump, all right,” Cramer said as he pushed his hat back on his head. “But it’s warm and dry.”

“And the local color is free of charge.”

“Including that manager. I’d like to straighten out a few of his ideas about us.”

“Why argue with him? If he got mad at us and wouldn’t let us have the room, where would we go tonight?”

“But what are we going to do with one room?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to bed. My head is killing me.”

“But, Miss Harnett--” He looked awfully uncomfortable.

“Will you please turn your back while I undress?”

Cramer turned away, flustered. “But we can’t stay here, together.”

“Well, if you’re afraid of me, get a chair and take it out into the hallway. Right now, I’m too tired and sore to argue. You’ll have to look out for yourself.” The bed creaked. “Good night.”

“Miss Harnett, I don’t see how--” He turned, saw her in bed, blushed, and quickly turned away. “This is ridiculous. What will the people of Woodstock say?”

“Nothing, unless you tell them.”

Cramer seemed to remember his responsibility. “Before you go to sleep, I’d better give you one of these pills.” He found a glass in the bathroom, filled it, and took it to her. “Here. Careful. Don’t spill any on the bed. Wonder how we rated a bathroom?”

“This is the bridal chamber, remember? The best room in the house.”

“Oh, yeah,” he mumbled as he took the glass back to the bathroom. “Listen, you try to get some rest and I’ll be back soon. I’m going to find a phone and call my mother.”

“Ask her to call Zoe, will you? Otherwise, she and Mrs. D. will worry.”

“I hate to tell too many people of our, ah, circumstances.”

“You don’t want them to call the Mounties out, do you?”

“You’re right. I’ll be sure to have Mother call Miss Bergetti,” Cramer mumbled as he turned in defeat for the door.

Downstairs, the people around the flickering television all turned and stared at Cramer. He ignored them and approached the greasy man at the desk.

“What’s wrong, bud? Need some whiskey for courage? I know where you can get it cheap.”

Cramer bit his lips to stop the retort he so wanted to say. “No.”

“Not that I blame you much. That gal looks pretty rough. What did you do? Beat her up first?”

Cramer closed his eyes to gain control. “Where is a telephone that I can use? I need to call long distance.”

“Right over there,” the clerk said, pointing to the phone that the robed lady had used. “Use that one, Mr. Smith.”

“Mr. Smith?”

“Sure. Why not? Most everyone is Mr. Smith around here.”

Cramer made his phone call, then walked outside. Snow was still falling and street lights were softly blurred in a halo of icy flakes. Several people with upturned collars rushed by and gave Cramer a funny look because he was simply standing there looking at it snow, but he didn’t care. 

He breathed the cold air in deeply. All he wanted was not to go back to that hotel room. How could he spend a night with Jean Harnett? Generally he tried to keep his emotions in very narrow confines, but he wondered if even he could be that objective. One thing for sure, Miss Harnett wasn’t worried. She trusted him.

Cramer began to walk. Icy fingers of snow stung his face, but he paid them no heed. He wandered aimlessly and at last found himself in front of the hotel again. He glanced at his watch. Two hours had passed since he’d left. He was cold. Surely, he could go back to their room.

Cramer opened the door slowly to their room and tiptoed inside. By the dim night light, he could see Jean in bed. He removed his coat and hung it in the closet with Jean’s coat.

The bed creaked. “And where have you been?”

“Oh! Miss Harnett. I didn’t know you were awake. Here. It’s time you took another pill,” he said as he handed one to her with a glass of water.

“Thank you. Why, you’re cold! Have you been outside? I thought you were downstairs watching television.”

“With that crowd of curious people? They would’ve been watching me instead of the screen. I preferred the snow.”

“But you shouldn’t have gone walking! You’ll be ill. You certainly do need to have someone looking after you.”

“Try to get some more rest now.”

“You’ll need rest more than I. Here, want a pillow?” She threw it and he automatically caught it. “There’s probably another blanket in the dresser.” She rolled over and pulled her pillow over her head.

Cramer searched the dresser drawers for a blanket, found something that looked like a refugee from an Army camp, then hunted for a bed. There was always the bathtub but after his walk, the thought of snuggling up against the cold steel of the tub did not tempt him.

He hung his white shirt in the closet with their coats. Jean’s beige wool dress was draped over a chair, so he hung that up, too. He spotted Jean’s wristwatch and pearl ring on the rug and clumped them together with his watch and tie bar in a small ceramic dish sitting on the scarred dresser.

Jean stirred in her sleep and moaned as her hand brushed her chin. “Bad girl, bad girl,” she muttered as she flung aside the covers.

How objective did she expect him to be? Trying not to look down at her exposed loveliness, Cramer pulled the covers up to her shoulders. Jean sighed, smiled, and slept on peacefully.

What a horrible bruise. How pale was her face in contrast. Smooth and dewy and smiling like a child’s.

What a strange girl she was. So childlike, so naive, so blind in her loyalties. If they were ever involved in a fight, though, Cramer wanted Jean on his side. She would struggle with her full energies, and he knew he could depend on her. Because, if she decided to help, he’d get her help, whether he really wanted it or not.

Cramer placed the dresser bench at the foot of the over-stuffed chair, wrapped himself in the blanket, and lay down. For a few minutes he stared at the light and dark areas of the room, and then he turned. He could not get comfortable. The pillow. The pillow would help. He scooped it off the floor and stuffed it in the chair with him. He settled back and the pillow felt like what it was, stuffing. He squirmed and punched and molded it until he got reasonably comfortable. Crossing his arms, he closed his eyes, relaxed, and began to drift off.

The roads would be open tomorrow, he hoped. If he got enough sleep now, he could put in a full day at school and not waste the tax payers’ money. If he was careful, he could justify tomorrow’s salary--

Cramer sat up bolt-right. A screaming ambulance roared right past the hotel.

With a disgruntled sigh, Cramer pulled himself out of the chair and walked to the window. A snow plow must have been working because Cramer could see that the streets were clean. He wondered whether his car, parked along the curb, was under a pile of snow.

The storm had cleared in half an hour’s time, and moonlight glistened on the snow on the top of the building across the street. When he was a boy, Cramer thought that moonlit snow was glistening diamonds, the treasure of the fairies, that they had loaned to the humans. Now he was more realistic about snow. But he knew he would someday tell his wide eyed children about the fairies’ treasure-- That is, if he ever had children. He fully expected that he would never marry for women didn’t find him attractive.

How had he gotten into this ridiculous situation with Miss Harnett? Her mission in life must be to plague him, and she was certainly succeeding. Here they were in another impossible predicament, and Cramer could say nothing to defend himself. The more he said, the worse the situation seemed to become.

Cramer frowned. If he were a smoking man, he’d have a cigarette. Or a drink. A stout one. If there was even an occasion for a stout drink, this was it.

Cramer glanced at the sleeping Jean. Why blame her for this mess? After all, HE had belted HER. HE had talked to Adair about her interest in education, and thereby had gotten her appointed to attend the meetings, too. She was innocent. 

Wasn’t she?

Oh, well. No use envying her for that bed. He padded into the bathroom and drew himself a glass of water. Flicking on the shaving light, he stared at his haggard face in the mirror.

He just had to get some sleep!

The bed creaked as he flicked off the light.

“Are you awake, Mr. Cramer?”

“Yes,’ he called. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“What’s wrong? Can’t you sleep?”

“I’m having trouble settling down, that‘s all.”

“Your only trouble is getting used to your sleeping quarters.” The bed screamed and Jean’s bare feet paddled on the wooden floor.

Cramer knew she wore only a slip and kept his eyes away from the open door. “What are you doing, Miss Harnett?”

“I’m trading beds with you.”

“But you can’t--” He turned, caught a glimpse of white slip, blushed, and stared at the dark bathroom walls. “You can’t do that.”

“Listen, I can sleep anywhere. My favorite spot is the floor. It startles people, though, so I generally take the bed. But who cares tonight?”

“You can’t sleep down there on the floor!”

“You’re right. I can’t. I don’t have a sweatshirt.”

“A sweatshirt?!”

“Yeah. I love to put on a sweatshirt, wrap up in an old Indian blanket, and sleep on the floor. Boy, can I get a good rest! Hey, can I borrow your tee-shirt?”

“Tee-shirt?!” Cramer felt a blush go down to his shoulders. “How did you know I was wearing a tee-shirt?”

“That ambulance woke me up, too, and I saw you walk to the window. Well, how about the shirt?”

Her wearing his clothing?! He gripped the sink, hard, and tried to keep his voice level. “Miss Harnett, that would be highly irregular--”

“Now, who’s going to know about it? Wearing your shirt will not shock Woodstock half as much as discovering that we spent the night together in a hotel bridal suite, will it? Now, please hurry with that shirt. It’s cold down here.”

“Did you actually get on the floor?!” he demanded as he charged into the bedroom. Sure enough, there she lay on the floor. “Get back in that bed!”

“Why, Mr. Cramer," she teased. “That sounds like a proposition to me. I CAN’T get into that bed. You’re sleeping there, and I’m sleeping down here, if you’ll give me that shirt.”

“You won’t listen to reason and trade back?”

“Listen, you need sleep and can’t rest comfortably in that chair. I can sleep anywhere, so I’ll sleep down here. Besides, I need to pay you back for taking your hospitality at Christmas.”

“If you can sleep anywhere, why don’t you sleep in the chair?”

“I prefer the floor.”

“And I suppose you’ll get pneumonia without the shirt.”

“No, I’ll just have my perfect sleeping situation complete, and I can sleep better.”

“Try as I might,” he muttered as he peeled off the shirt, “I’ll never understand you, Miss Harnett.” Bare to the waist, he squatted and handed the shirt to her. “Here.”

She took it out of his hand and started to pull it over her head. “Aw! Help me, will you? I’m hurting my jaw.”

He reached to help her. Jean’s arms were flung high over her head and her face was hidden from sight. The shirt ended at her throat so Cramer objectively avoided glancing at the view from her throat to the top of her lacy slip.

The shirt slid down her arms, and he gently extracted Jean’s head.

“Thanks,” she muttered, then shook her tousled hair. She purred as she rubbed the shirt’s cotton softness. “Hmm. Nice. And warm, too. Well, how does it look?”

He glanced down sheepishly and grinned in appreciation. “Better than it did on me.”

“No, silly! Not the tee-shirt. The bruise.”

“Oh. The bruise.” He looked at her chin. “Like an over-ripe plum about to burst. And I bet it’s throbbing, too.” 

“It is.”

 

“Sorry I hit you.”  
“Oh, you’ve probably felt like doing that long before now, saw your chance tonight, and belted me a good one.”

“I would never intentionally hurt you!”

“I know. I was teasing, Butch.

“AND I never let my emotions run away so that I do anything rash.”

“That’s too bad,” she murmured and smiled bewitchingly. “Sometimes it’s more fun to give in to your emotions.” Her hands settled on his bare arms. “Well, good night. Husband.”

“Husband?!”

“Bridal chamber, remember?” She snuggled under the Army blanket and closed her eyes. “Tuck me in, will you?”

Cramer knew there was no use to argue. He tucked the blanket under her shoulders and looked at her peacefully smiling face with her eyes softly closed. She was so appealing, so trusting, so fragile. He had to touch that soft face.

His fingers neared her cheek and then they shook.

Cramer jumped up so quickly, he stumbled. He backed away, turned for the bed, and then he heard her low wolf whistle.

“Nice shoulders,” she murmured.

Cramer scurried to the bed, didn’t even bother to drop his trousers, and dove under the covers. The sheets were still warm from her body.

How objective was he supposed to be?!

Long minutes passed while Cramer talked himself out of a savage impulse. He was a civilized man in full control of his emotions. But couldn’t she help, instead of tempt, him?

She probably didn’t even realize what she had been doing to him. She sounded so much like Paul. Relax. Have fun. Give into his emotions. But, how could he give up his principles that easily?

“I can’t, Jean. I just can’t.” He sat up in bed and it squeaked with his change in weight. “Can’t you understand that I must live by rules? That all men must live by rules, or we’d be savages? Jean?”

“Hmm?” she mumbled in her sleep and turned. “Ouch!”

Cramer lay back in the soft bed and relaxed. The only thing to do was to go to sleep, so he did.

If she would’ve been any other woman, she would’ve been deliberately trying to seduce him. And, if he would’ve been any other man, she would’ve been successful.

But she was Jean and he was Cramer, so they went to sleep: Cramer in bed, Jean on the floor.

 

Light blinded him. Cramer blinked and suddenly found his tee-shirt flung in his face.

“Rise and shine, muscles!”

Lord love a duck, Cramer moaned to himself, she’s a morning person. On top of everything else, she’s a morning person. He ordinarily was, too, but he hadn’t gotten as much sleep as she had. Besides, her sleep had been drug induced, and therefore deeper than his sleep had been. No wonder she was chipper.

“I’m going downstairs and see how the roads are,” she continued as she opened the door. “Meet you in the lobby and we’ll eat breakfast.” Jean bombed out of the room, leaving Cramer trying to orient his mind.

Twenty minutes later Cramer found Jean sitting in front of the TV in the small room off the lobby.

“Look! TV Classroom! And it’s on Dickens! This episode is on ’Pickwick Papers.’ Maude and I are watching it!” 

An old, toothless woman beside Jean looked up at Cramer with shining eyes. It was obvious she didn’t even know who Dickens was, but she was caught up with Jean’s enthusiasm.

“Do you want to watch with us?!” Jean asked.

“No. That’s alright. Let’s have some breakfast.”

Jean took his arm and, as they walked from the lobby, Jean leaned close to Cramer and whispered, “Don’t look now, but it looks like you slept in your slacks.”

Cramer looked around quickly to see if anyone else noticed, and Jean laughed.

“Nobody cares! That’s the beauty of it. Nobody cares! Come on! Let’s go into the dining room. I’ve already ordered for us. “Hey,” she said as he seated her, “good timing. Here comes our food now. Well, guess what? The head waiter is coming, too.” She leaned close to Cramer and whispered, “I never thought a place like this would have a head waiter, did you? Must be for atmosphere.”

The rotund, balding head waiter looked down at Jean with half-closed eyes. “Good morning, Madame. I hope the breakfast meets with your approval.”

“Thank you, I’m sure it will. It looks delicious.”

“The manager says you are a honeymoon couple.” He didn’t see Cramer’s look of exasperation. “We are very happy that you chose the Hotel Springfield.”

“It was our pleasure.” Jean turned a magnificent smile on him.

He smiled back, then saw her bruised face. He stiffened and reached for Cramer’s plate.

“Hey! What the--”

“Perhaps Monsieur would prefer a punching bag.”

“I prefer my breakfast!” Cramer fought to control his temper. “If you don’t mind.”

“Whatever Madame says.”

“Oh, please feed him. He’s so brutal when he’s hungry.”

“I can see that.” The waiter set the plate down in front of Cramer and left.

“Thanks,” Cramer grumbled. “Thank you very much. I’ll never be able to show my face in this town again.”

Her eyes twinkled as she pressed his arm. “So? Do you want me to get the doctor and the manager and the head waiter out here and explain the truth to them?”

“No, that’d only make things worse.” He started eating his ham and eggs.

“Can’t you see the humor in all this? It’s be much easier on you if you did. Do you enjoy hurting yourself?”

“We’re getting personal, Miss Harnett. What did you find out about the roads?”

“They’re open. We can leave as soon as we want or, or as soon as we can.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your car’s under a ton of snow. Relax. I asked a little old man to dig it out, but it’ll cost you.”

“It’ll cost the school. The school! O-h-h, what are they going to say?!”

“I wonder what they’re saying right now? We were gone all night, and you know how talk starts.” She shrugged at his consternation. “I thought as long as you were worrying, you might as well worry about that, too.” 

“You fail to realize the full impact of this incident.”

“On the contrary. We could lose our jobs over this.”

“Maybe, if we tell the truth, without much ado, it won’t be so bad.”

The head waiter approached. “Would Monsieur care for another serving?”

Cramer’s mouth circled in a retort, but Jean smiled at the waiter. “That’s all right. He’s not hungry anymore.”

“Would you like to take a lunch with you, Madame?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Cramer snapped.

“Madame?”

“It’s all right. Thank you, anyway. You are so sweet.”

The head waiter bowed slightly to her, then shot a writhing look at Cramer.

“Come on,” Cramer growled as he took Jean’s arm and propelled her toward the front door.

Outside, Cramer paid the old man for digging out his car, and he and Jean started back to Woodstock. Cramer broke his silence record that trip. Not one word passed his lips. By the time he let Jean out at Mrs. Doubleday’s, she was in a sullen mood, too.

“My goodness, child!” Mrs. Doubleday exclaimed as she fluttered about. “What happened last night?”

“Mr. Cramer and I had an accident because of the snow, and the blocked roads kept us from coming home. We had to spend the night in Springfield.”

“But what about your jaw? Shouldn’t you go to a doctor?”

“A doctor’s already seen it.”

“But, how did you get hurt?”

“I got hit when Mr. Cramer’s car slid into a ditch.”

“Well, my goodness, child. You’ve had an awful experience. You better get right to bed.”

Jean didn’t argue. Although she wasn’t tired or sleepy, her jaw did hurt. Besides, she was reluctant to face people at school. She felt so listless, as if all of her stuffing had been removed.

 

Jean was reading a magazine when Zoe got home that afternoon after school.

“Good grief, what happened last night?” Zoe asked as she looked at Jean. “Mr. Cramer said you got hurt, but I had no idea--”

“Mr. Cramer? Was he in school today?”

“Yes. He came in around 10:30. He sure wasn’t in the same wreck you were in. You look horrible!”

“Thanks. He should be in good shape. He got a good night’s sleep.”

“How do you know? Come on, Jean. Give.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. We had to sleep in a crowded hotel, that’s all.”

“I know you’re still exhausted, so I’m going to let you get all the rest you can, unless there’s something I can do for you.”

“No. Nothing. But, thanks.”

“Brian’s picking me up in a few minutes. I’ll be late.”

“I don’t want to chase you out of your apartment.”

“You aren’t. We’d planned to go to the show at Fredericksburg. But I’ll stay with you, if you want me to stay.”

“Heavens, no! You go on and have a good time. Say ‘Hi’ to Brian for me.”

“He said to say ‘Hi’ to you, too, and he’d give you a kiss, but he knew your face was hurting.” She wrinkled her nose. “He said something about the voice of experience speaking. Personally, I know that he enjoyed the kiss I put on his face after his accident.” She straightened as she heard a car horn. “Oh, there’s Brian. He said to tell you to stay out of the snowdrifts. See ya.” And she bombed out.

Cramer was right. Tell part of the truth, and the whole truth could be hidden.

 

Jean returned to school on Friday and was the recipient of much curiosity and solicitude.

“Oh, Miss Harnett, how glad we are to have you back. Does your jaw hurt very much?”

“Not as much as it has. Thank you for your concern, Miss Clapsaddle.”

“My, you and Mr. Cramer had quite an adventure, didn’t you?”

“Yes, we certainly did, Miss Paget.”

“Well, the lost is found!”

“Good morning, Brian.”

“Boy, what a jaw! Are you sure Cramer didn’t slug you?”

“Why would he do something like that?”

“Well, him Tarzan, you Jane.”

“Oh, good grief, Brian. His mind is too pure for those kinds of thoughts.”

“Oh, you really think so?”

“Why, he’s the last man in this school I’m afraid of.”

“That must do wonderful things for his ego, Princess.” Brian patted her shoulder. “Glad you’re back with us again. No matter how bad you look, it‘s good to see you.”

Her classes went remarkably well. She noticed how the students seemed to be watching her with concern. Cramer had circulated the story well, the story he wanted known, and had spared Jean endless questions.

It was while she was checking papers during her free period that her conversation with Brian came back to her.

‘He’s the last man in this school I’m afraid of.’

‘That must do wonderful things for his ego, Princess.’

Maybe that’s why Cramer had been so quiet coming home. She had hurt his ego! Despite what he’d said, Cramer was still a man and she shouldn’t forget that. No matter if she did trust him, she should let him know that she considered him a man and, therefore, dangerous. She planned to fix that problem as soon as she could.

But all that day, Cramer avoided Jean. Maybe he was extra busy on that Friday, and he’d act differently after the weekend. By Monday noon, the matter was beyond coincidence, and Jean knew that Cramer was definitely going out of his way to avoid her company. She was mystified, but a slow anger also went over her. ‘Two can play that game, mister,’ she resolved. ‘If you make the rules, I surely can follow them.’

From then on, she deliberately tried to avoid him. Knowing which periods he had classes, she kept track of him and managed to get her outside work done then. If she needed administrative assistance, she went to Jimmy Adair which was rather a shock to him for she had rarely consulted him in the past. If students wanted her help and it also required Cramer’s help, she sent a note. Yes, they worked out a marvelous plan and it succeeded. But, continually, there were people coming in her room looking for Mr. Cramer. Why look for him there? Did they think she had some influence with him?

The next Wednesday’s meeting was looming on the horizon. Pride kept Jean from asking Adair if she could be relieved. Besides, it might stir up curiosity and questions she didn’t want to answer.

Still, Cramer avoided her. It got so it was almost ridiculous. He claimed he never mixed personalities with business, but he certainly was now.

Of course, there was the Tuesday morning teachers’ meeting and the occasional encounters in the hall or in the cafeteria, but otherwise she never saw him. She even missed the little visits he used to pay to her classroom.

Then it was Wednesday night again. At the regular time, she saw the blue and white Ford pull up outside her apartment. They exchanged mumbled greetings.

The trip to Springfield was very quiet with not ten words spoken between them, and the return trip started the same until Cramer broke the silence.

“That time you and Paul ate dinner at Mother’s, you were only leading me on about being so interested in education, weren’t you?”

“Not completely. You misunderstood what I was saying that evening. I like working with children, but not discussing educational theory, per se.”

“Sorry I got you into this mess. Do you want to stop going to the meetings?”

“No, I’ll finish the series. The meetings haven’t been too boring, and I’ve learned some things.”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to go anywhere with me. After all, you’ve been avoiding me for a week.”

“I’ve been avoiding you?! Well, if you weren’t avoiding me, you sure were doing a good imitation of it!”

“I’m sorry I gave that impression.”

“Well, you did!” She took a deep breath, but never got her next sharp words spoken.

“Let’s not fight anymore, Jean. It’s wearing me out.”

“Okay, if you promise not to slug me and carry me off to some hotel room again. If I wouldn’t have been so groggy, I would’ve been scared with worry.”

“I told you that you could trust me.”

“Sure, that’s what they all say. I trust no man that much. Some guardian angel must’ve been protecting me.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see his pleased grin. Ego restored. Mission accomplished.

“Want to stop for a hamburger?” 

“Sure, if you do,” she answered.

“You’d better be more enthusiastic than that. Or don’t you remember the head waiter at the Hotel Springfield? He thinks I get violent when I’m not fed.”

“Oh. That!” She laughed. “Well, I certainly don’t want any more upper-cuts. I’ll simply have to carry an apple or a sandwich at all times to keep you appeased.”

He grinned. “You know, that whole mess seems funny now, but at the time--”

“Wait awhile. Every day will make it funnier.”

“Look, ah, maybe I was avoiding you all week. Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I don’t blame you.”

“Thanks.” He glanced at her. “Your face still is bruised a little. Did it cause you much trouble?”

“At first, it hurt to eat. But it’s fine now.”

Cramer flipped on the radio, and dance music filled the car. Jean settled against the back of the seat and relaxed. As the car traveled down the road, a passage from Browning kept floating through her mind.

‘God’s in His Heaven, all’s right with the world.’

 

Jean sat at her desk in her apartment correcting test papers while Zoe scurried around, humming softly.

“What are you so happy about?” Jean mumbled.

“Got a date.”

Jean looked up. “No kidding?” She looked sly. “Brian?” She grinned. “Again?”

Zoe winked. “Yep. Again. Forever, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Has he come out with any commitments?”

“Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time. I hope.”

Jean grinned. “Rockets going off?”

“But with yourself attached to them.”

“Sounds more like being drunk.”

“But better. Just wait. It’ll happen to you.”

“With me, it generally lands like a ton of bricks. One moment, I’m blissfully unaware. The next, I’m in the middle of a full blown romance with my head still reeling with the suddenness of it all.”

Zoe stopped her puttering. “Are you saying you have no control over your emotions? You with a passionate suitor waiting on every corner?”

“None.” Jean frowned. “Not true love. I go head over heels just like any silly school girl with her first crush.” She stirred herself. “But enough about my crazy love life. Got anywhere to go for Easter?”

“Nope. Brian and I are going to see it through together. Our relatives live too far away for us to visit them. We’d spend our vacation traveling.”

“You could always come home with me. You know you’re more than welcome.”

Zoe smiled gently, tolerantly, as she would to a child who didn’t quite understand. “But that would leave Brian here alone.” Her attention was drawn to a noise outside. “There’s Brian now. See ya!” And she was gone.

Jean sighed. How wonderful to care for someone so much. She only hoped that Brian felt as strongly about Zoe as Zoe did about him. How terrible for Zoe if he didn’t.

 

Robert Cramer watched from the window of the principal’s office as the last of the buses left that Thursday afternoon. School wouldn’t be in session until next Tuesday morning. Another lonely holiday coming up! It wouldn’t last as long as Christmas vacation, but his brothers wouldn’t be around to help fill the quiet hours, either. They would both be involved with their women!

Cramer chided himself for his jealousy and reminded himself that he should feel happy for his brothers. But, darn it, all he had to look forward to was Easter dinner at his Aunt Alice’s. He could spend time with his cousins, but one was a new father and the other was a recent bridegroom. Who would’ve ever thought Dennis would marry? He seemed like a confirmed bachelor, but Judy Montgomery had proved otherwise by marrying him at Valentine’s Day.

Cramer frowned. Of course, there was always Cousin Fred. But NOBODY wanted to spend time with Cousin Fred. Not unless he wanted to get picked up by the police. Cousin Fred spent a lot of time in jail.

That left Bob with the prospect of listening to the twittering gossip of his female relatives.

And to top it off, someone had War and Peace checked out of the town library. Bob hadn’t quite finished it at Christmas time, and now it was absent from the school library shelf, too. Someone must be as lonely as he was.

 

Zoe and Brian wandered aimlessly through the little woods near Springfield that Saturday afternoon. Neither spoke. Conversation was unnecessary. Zoe had stuffed her hands into the pockets of her navy pea jacket, and Brian had turned up the collar of his tan suede jacket against the brisk March wind. The late winter sunshine gave no warmth, but the promises of false spring had sent the two into the lonely fields. They preferred the empty countryside to the bustle of people preparing for their Easter celebration the next day.

The woods ended and the silent couple entered a little glen that widened and dipped into farmland. They huddled on a small boulder and both became interested in the ground at their feet. The wind ruffled Zoe’s auburn hair and threatened Brian’s glasses, but neither seemed to notice.

“Zoe--”

Her name, after so much silence, startled her.

“Zoe, did my blood come out of your blouse?”

“No.”

“Did you burn it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess it didn’t occur to me.” How could she tell him that she’d kept it for a souvenir? He would think she was foolish and sentimental.

“Sorry I can’t replace it for you.”

“That’s all right.’ Zoe stood and walked aimlessly in front of the rock. Brian glanced at her several times, but said nothing. At last she sat down again at his side.

“I guess I should get you a diamond. If we’re going to keep each other company over lonely holidays, we might as well make it official and stop people from talking.”

“A wedding band will do,” she muttered. She didn’t quite believe him.

“Okay.”

She glanced at him. “That is, if it’s marriage we’re discussing.”

“It is.”

She breathed deeply and looked away. “I don’t need diamonds. The money could be better spent on furniture.”

“Whatever you say. Ah, you would permit me to give you a bauble now and then, just because I wanted to?”

She didn’t believe this conversation at all. “Sure. Don’t spoil me, though.”

“You’re laying down a lot of rules, woman.” He thought a moment. “Okay. If that’s what it takes to get you to marry me, I promise not to spoil you. But it’s a heartless promise you’re wanting me to vow.”

“Why put yourself through the agony, then?”

The wind gusted with new vigor, then quieted slightly.

“Why do I want to put myself through the agony of marrying you? Simple. Because I love you.” He said it conversationally and so low that she nearly missed it.

At last, something she could believe. He’d made a commitment, and it’d be difficult to retract or distort the statement he’d just made. And, oh, how she wanted to believe him.

“Do you, Brian?”

His name spoken by her thrilled him even before he saw her warm brown eyes glistening with tears.

“Uh huh,” he nodded. His hand roughly caressed hers. “That’s what I was trying to tell you the day of my accident. That, and more. But everything was getting dark, and I thought my time had run out. It scared me. And what I was saying wasn’t cynical. It was true, all true, from the bottom of my heart.” He squeezed her hand. “I love you, Zoe, more than I ever thought I’d ever be able to love someone. Marry me so neither one of us ever has to be lonely again.”

“I think you mean it.”

“Of course, I mean it! Why do you think I shouldn’t?”

“Because I didn’t dare hope that you’d even consider proposing, even though that’s what I wanted most to hear from you.”

“You did?" he asked with a shy grin. "I wish I’d known that a long time ago. We’d saved ourselves a lot of knuckle chewing and time.”

“Maybe we weren’t ready to say this stuff until now. I didn’t dare trust you. I thought you might be teasing.”

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled both of them to their feet. “Not now. I’m not teasing now. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Listen to me, girl. You’ve opened up a whole new future for me. I’m not going to let you back out on me now. I want you to be my wife. I promise to treasure you forever, if you‘ll only let me.”

The intensity of his emotion awed her. It was almost embarrassing to hear him talking this way. “Are you going to be one of those sentimental slobs who’ll cater to my every whim?”

“I’ll certainly try. I’ll treat you like the princess you are.”

She could almost believe him. But she was missing the Brian she used to know, the cantankerous misfit with a sour outlook on life, the Brian she’d fallen in love with. She gave him a brave smile. “And do you intend to give up all the bickering? I sort of liked it.”

“Who said we had to give it up? I liked our fighting, too. We’ll just be able to end the arguments we have with a kiss instead of frustration.”

Her smile turned mischievous. “We’ll be fighting all the time.”

His grin was wicked. “That’s what I’m counting on, woman.”

Zoe laughed out loud. The old Brian was back. “This is going to be great! I guess I’ll just have to say ‘Yes.’”

Brian held her by the shoulders and searched her merry eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly, soberly.

She was awed by his solemn mood and sobered herself.

“Thank you,” he repeated and kissed her forehead. “Love me, too?” he whispered because he didn’t trust his voice to speak aloud. “Just a little bit?”

“Love you, too. A whole lot,” she whispered back. “Forever.”

His eyes twinkled with the tears smarting in them. “Wow! Forever!“ He pulled his arms around her and simply held her for a long time with his eyes closed.

Zoe felt the tension leave her body. She held the old Brian and the new Brian in her arms, and they had melded into a blended Brian who promised to be an island of refuge for her. Here was her future, here was the rest of her life, and she reveled in the pure sensation of it. Later she’d have time to marvel in her good luck. Later, there would be time for logic. Later. Right now, all she wanted was feeling.

Zoe felt so cherished. Her eyes misted and then she sighed in contentment as his arms tightened around her.

She was home.

 

Jean stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom she’d shared with Brenna for as long as she could remember. She loved the soft mauve linen dress and the huge tan picture hat that she wore. A gold and pearl chain was draped around her neck several times, and pearl earrings were clipped onto her ears. She hadn’t worked herself up to having her ears pierced yet. So many women were doing that. Maybe this summer.

Jean’s eyes traveled down her reflection in the mirror. White heels and short white gloves completed her Easter outfit. How wonderful to be wearing Spring’s soft pastels again after the drab winter colors! And how wonderful to be in Canton with her family and their special guest, Craig Martin, for Easter morning church service.

“Jean, are you about ready?” her father called up the open staircase.

“Coming, Daddy!” She grabbed her white string bag with its gold medallion clasp. How coordinated she was!

“And tell your sister that there’s some guy waiting for her down here.”

Jean laughed. “All right, Daddy. Brenna’s helping Mother.” Jean stepped into her parents’ bedroom.

“Look, Jean,” Brenna said. “Don’t you think the dress looks fine on Mother?”

Jean looked enviously at both of their frothy Junior Petite fashions and wished for the five-millionth time that she hadn’t inherited her father’s height and sturdy frame. Junior Petite fashions never looked quite right on her, even if Junior High.

“Brenna’s right, Mother. You look beautiful. Dad’s eye won’t stray with you around, that‘s for certain.”

“I just can’t seem to get these pleats to lie right,” Louise said, tugging at the dress.

“Just act like the beautiful person you are, and nobody will notice the pleats.”

“You sound like your father, Brenna. You have his logic.” She studied Brenna’s dress. “Your pleats are lying nicely.”

Brenna and Jean exchanged glances. Both sisters knew that Louise’s problem was her spreading figure, but neither wanted to mention it.

“Here, Mother, let’s see what the hat looks like with the dress.”

“Thanks, Jean.” Louise placed the bonnet on her dark hair, and her daughters stood back in admiration. Louise’s small frame was covered with a layer of squishy fat which softened her features. If she were smaller, she’d be a fragile doll, but now she was a cuddly mom. Her husband loved her gentle ways and her ability to be always flustered. And while Brenna was like their quiet, orderly dad in temperament; Jean was a duplicate of their mother. But in build, Brenna copied Louise’s small frame and dark complexion while Jean reflected Frank’s larger frame and lighter features.

“Ready, ladies?” Jean asked. “Let’s present the Harnett family annual Easter parade for our admirer. But, of course, this year we will present it for Craig, too.”

Together, the three Harnett women descended the open stairway and smiled at the two men looking up at them in admiration.

“Well, look at that,” Frank Harnett exclaimed as he stood and gave them a wolf whistle. ‘Now, Craig, if a man was to see a sight like that and then be struck blind, he’d be a happy man.”

“Oh, you tease,” Louise said as she patted her husband’s arm. “You’re full of the blarney today.”

“I have a reason to be. It’s not every man who gets to escort such a pretty colleen to church.”

“I think we have the wrong holiday, but I’ll forgive you,” Louise said as she took his arm.

“Hello, Craig.”

“You look beautiful, Brenna.”

Jean smiled at the two couples and, although they were some of the people she loved the most in the world, she suddenly felt alone. They loved her, too, but they had each other. And she had no one to call her own.

They walked to the Methodist Church as was their custom on Easter morning. Jean smiled pleasantly at faces she’d known since childhood and then settled herself against the coolness of the wooden pew.

Jean lost herself in the beauty of the Easter service. The story of Christ’s sacrifice for mankind always thrilled her, and she felt her tears gathering as she thought of all His love. She didn’t dare look at her mother for Jean knew that Louise was having the same emotional experience.

After church they walked back home where Louise had left the dinner in a timed oven. Frank and Craig watched TV while the women put the food on the table.

The five sat down to an Easter inner of ham glazed with pineapple and maple sugar, sweet potatoes, asparagus, pears and cottage cheese in lime gelatin salad, and a white cake with white frosting topped with coconut and nests of red and yellow and green jelly beans.

“Jean made the cake yesterday,” Frank said proudly.

“It’s very good, Jean.”

“Thanks, Craig, but my secret is a cake mix.”

“It’s still good. And we’re eating it to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” Jean asked. “Easter?”

“You make a perfect straight man, Jean.” Craig glanced at Brenna. “Brenna has consented to be my wife. And the wedding is going to be soon.”

There was a moment of silence, and then a hubbub of congratulations and questions broke out.

Craig laughed. “Hold it! Hold it! We know you’re surprised. I’ll try to answer your questions. We’ve set a date in early June. I don’t know yet if I’m going to summer school, but we can fit the wedding in nicely before school starts. One of my brothers will be best man. And, yes, Jean, we want you to be maid-of-honor, if you will.”

“If I will?! Oh, you know I will! Oh, I’m thrilled, guys. Do I get to write the engagement announcement?”

“We’re counting on you,” Craig answered. “But we’re not saying anything for a couple of weeks.”

“Brenna’s already told the guy in Vietnam that she’s found someone else. Why wait?”

“I want to tell my family first, Jean. I can do that next weekend.” He smiled softly at Brenna. “I know that this doesn‘t leave much planning time, but we want a simple wedding. But the important thing is that we’re all together.” He looked at the rest of the table. “I’m going to like being a part of this family.”

“We’re happy to have you with us, son.” Frank reached across the table and shook hands with Craig.

Jean smiled, but she felt melancholy inside. Already she was missing Brenna.

 

Later, Frank found Jean alone in the library. “What’s wrong, Jean? Too much happy news at once?”  
“I guess. There’ll be a lot to do before June. I’ll have to come home almost every weekend to get it done.”

“That’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”

Jean rubbed her arms as though she was chilly, but she couldn’t possibly feel cold with the warm pullover she was wearing. “It’s finally hit me that Brenna is leaving home.”

“And she’s always been here, hasn’t she? Brenna had to face your leaving when she was a sophomore in high school, and you went away to college. It didn’t bother you because you were the one on the move, not us. Brenna will be back, just as you came back.”

“But it won’t be the same!”

“Of course not. That’s what life is about. Nothing stays the same. It can’t. Otherwise, new families would never get started.”

“It’ll seem odd that she won’t be here.”

“It will, at first. But humans are amazingly adaptable. We learn new patterns and new routines quite quickly. We all will have to learn our new roles, even Craig, because he will a part of us now.”

Jean smiled wistfully. “That will be the nice side of all this, that Craig will become a member of our family.”

“And there’ll be other things that’ll become more natural in time. Eventually, you will bring a young man home for Mother and me to meet, and all of our roles will change again.” He looked at her. “Could that be happening soon?”

Jean looked startled. “There’s no young man, Daddy. What makes you think there could be?”

“You’ve been acting preoccupied lately. I thought maybe there was a romance that wasn’t working out.”

“I went with a couple of guys right after Christmas. They were brothers of my principal. One of them really broke my heart, the other one wasn’t around long enough to do much damage, thank goodness. It smarted when I lost him, though. I could’ve been content with either one of them, but they were both pining for previous girlfriends. They helped me through some dull weeks of winter, though, and I still count them among my friends. But right now, I’m floundering in the romance department.”

“Maybe you’re not sure exactly what you want in a man.”

“That’s it. I’m not sure of anything, Daddy. Especially who I’m going to choose for a husband.”

“Well, you, and only you, have that choice. Nobody, not even me, can make up your mind. But you do have one guideline: when you know it’s real love, there’ll be no doubts. There may be obstacles and problems, but never any doubts.”

“I wish I could feel that way about someone. I would like to be that sure.”

“You will. In time. But you have to fill the time until you find your future husband. That’s why I’m worried about your future. If you have a job, you may not be so lonely. You could come home to stay and you’d be welcome, but you wouldn’t be satisfied using your parents as a crutch. You’re a crusader. You’ll need a crusade. You’ll need a job, a job in familiar surrounds, but not in your hometown.”

“Woodstock. I have to go back there, won’t I, Daddy? Is that what you mean?”

“If you ever want to feel contented again, you’ll go back. You’ll have to convince yourself that you’re not running away. And if you ever leave Woodstock, it should be because you’re going to something better, not because you’re leaving something you can no longer tolerate.”

“Craig told you that I’d returned my contract unsigned?”

“Yes.”

“And you think that with Brenna getting married, I’ll be knocked off my moorings? And that Woodstock would put me back on an even keel?”

“I know you, Jean. I’m not telling you what to do. I’m only giving you my opinion. But I think you need the security of Woodstock. Would they still offer you a contract since you already turned it down once?”

Jean sighed as she remembered that Cramer had already offered her a second contract. “Oh, yes, Daddy, I’m sure they would.”

“Just think about it, honey. I want you to be happy and contented, that’s all.”

“I know you do. Thanks, Daddy. Well,” she said as she stood up. “It’s about time that Brenna and Craig were getting back . I’ll go help Mother get supper started.”

 

As they were finishing a supper of ham sandwiches, potato salad, and apple crisp, Jean asked, “Brenna, what colors are you using in the wedding?” And that question started the three women talking details about everything from guest lists to music.

Frank grinned. “Come on, Craig. Let’s go see if that basketball game is still on. These three won’t miss us for hours.”

 

Late Monday afternoon, Jean drove back to Woodstock. Her thoughts were completely on home and her family and the pleasure they had shared in each other’s company. At her apartment, she hummed to herself as she unpacked.

“Come in,” she sang out to the knock on the door. “Good evening, Mrs. D.,” she said with a smile. “Did you have a nice Easter?”

“Oh, yes,” Iris answered, settling in a chair. “And I can see that you did, too. You’re positively glowing.”

“I had a wonderful time,” Jean answered, sitting on the sofa. “What did you do yesterday?”

“Mrs. Johnson and I went to church together in the morning. Rev. Barnes read an inspiring sermon on peace in today’s world. The school choir sang a special program. They were cute and inspiring.”

“Greg Boynton practiced those kids for two weeks. I’m glad to hear that their program was successful. I imagine everyone was in their Easter finery, too.”

“Oh, yes. The spring colors were so refreshing after a winter of drab browns and blacks. I imagine all the kids will in different wardrobes tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes! They should! The school will look like a flower garden! I love Spring!”

Iris smiled gently. “You love life, dear, and it shows. It’s a pleasure to be around you. You’re like that choir I heard yesterday morning. The enthusiasm of youth is contagious. That’s why I like being around young people.”

Jean winked. “So do I! That’s why I have the perfect job.” She glanced around. “Where’s Zoe?”

“She and Brian went to Springfield this afternoon. She said she’d be getting back late.”

“They probably went to the movies.”

“They spent most of the holiday together. I think they’re getting serious.”

Jean winked again. “So do I.”

 

Jean sat perched on the end of her single bed brushing her short hair when Zoe burst into the apartment.

“Jean! Jean!”

“Good grief! What’s wrong?!”

Zoe grabbed her and hugged her hard. “Oh, the most wonderful thing has happened! Brian proposed!”

“Proposed what? Oh. Oh, marriage! Oh, Zoe! Zoe!”

The two girls jumped and danced around the room.

Zoe stopped. “Mrs. Doubleday will hear!”

“No, she won’t! She’s next door!”

And they were off again.

Zoe stopped and fought for breath. Laughing and crying, she gripped Jean’s arms. “We picked out our wedding bands today. Oh, gosh, Jean! Imagine me, a bride!”

“You’ll be so beautiful,” Jean said while visions of Zoe in a white satin gown flowed through her mind. And beside Zoe, she saw herself in blushing peach, Zoe’s favorite color. “Am I your bridesmaid?”

“Of course,” Zoe said as she hung up her coat. “Wouldn’t have anybody else.”

“When? When are you getting married? June?”

“No. As soon as possible,” she said as she slipped out of her slacks. “Maybe next weekend.”

“Next weekend?! That soon? Gosh, how will you get it done that fast?”

Zoe pulled on her fleece robe. “Elope.”

“Elope?” Jean considered it a moment. “Of course! Elope! If Paul Cramer and Elise Ott can get it done, so can you guys!”

“That’s what we thought.” Zoe sat at the dresser and lit up a cigarette. “We want you and Craig to go with us and be our witnesses.”

“Of course, we will. But the weekend is going to be awfully short for you. Monday will roll around mighty soon, and you’ll want every moment you can have.”

“That’s what we thought,” Zoe said as she crushed her cigarette in the imitation agate ashtray. “That’s why we decided to elope next Thursday night.”

Jean sat up bolt upright. “Thursday? Won’t you have a hard time getting back to school on Friday morning?”

Zoe breathed deeply. “Not if I come back here Thursday night.”

“You’re crazy! You can’t spend your wedding night with me!”

“I am. We’ll get married, then I’ll come back here, and Brian will go to his apartment. Friday morning we’ll go back to school as usual. After school, we’ll leave on our honeymoon.”

“Oh, Zoe! Your plan might make sense now, but you wait until next Thursday night. You‘ll want to go with Brian, and you can‘t.”

Zoe made a slight gesture of resignation with her hand. “Can’t be helped. Oh, Jean, there’s so much I have to do! Help me with my trousseau.”

 

Jean returned to her duties at school with the news of the two secret engagements singing in her heart. She charmed everyone she met with her glorious smile and euphoria of good feeling. Charmed everyone except Robert Cramer, that is. Her soft happiness seemed to anger him, and he avoided her. That was all right. Jean wasn’t going to let his sour mood affect her. Love was in the air, it was wonderful to be young, and her future was spread out before her with a bright promise.

It was going to be a glorious Spring!


	8. April

April First dawned clear, and sunshine flowed into every corner of Woodstock High School.

“Wouldn’t you know it?” Zoe muttered as she stared at a calendar. “April First. All Fool’s Day. And I picked this day to get married.”

“Appropriate, wouldn’t you say?” Brian asked dryly.

“Oh, you!”

“Hey, hey! Put down that ruler! Jean might need it to control those monsters today.” He reached up and struggled with her for the ruler.

They laughed as they continued the mock battle. Then their bodies touched, and they pulled closely together.

“Okay, you two, break it up,” Jean warned the silent couple who were staring burning holes into each other. “The kids will be coming back from lunch pretty soon now. And they shouldn‘t be seeing those looks on your faces. I suppose I shouldn‘t be, either,” she grumbled. “You’ll make me jealous.”

Landis and Zoe reluctantly pulled away from each other.

“I, ah, better get back to my classroom,” Brian muttered. He turned at the door, and sparks flew between him and Zoe again.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this wedding this way?” Jean asked Zoe after Brian left.

Zoe nodded her head. “I have to. Oh, God, it’s going to be rough getting through the next two days, but I love him, Jean. I want to be his wife.”

Jean saw tears threatening to spill out of Zoe’s brown eyes. “And you will be,’ she said, patting Zoe’s hand. “You have only happiness before you, honey, not sadness. This is your wedding day. Remember that, Zoe. Your wedding day! And I couldn‘t be happier for the both of you.”

Zoe nodded and tried to smile.

Jean shook her head as Zoe left.

Zoe’s wedding day. Zoe’s wedding day! Just thinking about it made Jean buoyant and happy. She had a smile for everyone that day and a very cheery greeting. Her romantic eyes glistened and a perpetual smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Everyone noticed her happiness and sensed that something very wonderful was soon going to happen to Miss Harnett. They had no way of knowing that she was happy only by association.

The final bell rang and the students scrambled for waiting school buses. Jean grabbed her note pad and hurried toward the library. During fifth period Cramer had sent word that he wanted a teachers’ meeting right after school about a matter that could not be postponed.

Jean sat behind the library desk and counted the day’s circulation. She filed the check out cards from library books and set the date due stamp for April 16. All was ready for Friday!

Several teachers wandered in and sat at the library tables. 

“What’s up?” Ed Lacey asked as he sat down.

“I don’t know,” Jack Walsh answered as he looked up from a POST magazine that he‘d grabbed in passing. “Cramer probably came up with some administrative rule that just COULDN’T wait.”

Miss Clapsattle hustled in and looked around with interested eyes. “My goodness, an afternoon meeting! Does anyone know what’s going on?” She asked as she plunked into a wooden chair.

“No,” Walsh answered. “But I bet Miss Harnett could tell us. She’s been going around all day looking like the cat that ate the canary. What’s up, Jean?”

Jean blushed under his steady gaze and looked away. At that moment Brian and Zoe appeared in the doorway, and Brian self-consciously dropped Zoe’s hand.

“Come on, Miss Harnett,” Walsh urged. “You can tell us your little secret. Something is making your eyes shine like that.”

“Just the spring weather, I guess,” Jean replied.

“No, it’s more than that. Are you love? Are you maybe,” he leaned toward her as he teased, “planing to elope?”

Zoe stared in horror at Jean.

“Nothing as special as that,” Jean lied, knowing what a poor actress she was. “Believe me, if I were engaged, you’d know it.” She grinned. “Everyone would. I‘d be shouting it from the rooftops! Taking ads out in newspapers! You‘d get sick hearing about that news flash by the time I was finished broadcasting it!”

Walsh grinned back, but would not leave the topic alone. “No, you know something the rest of us don’t. Like the purpose of this meeting.”

Jean shrugged. She loved being teased.

“Come, come, Miss Harnett. You’ve got an inside track with Mr. Cramer,” Walsh continued. “You know, if I ever get into any trouble with him, I want you to be my lawyer.”

“Me, too,” the unimaginative Lacey agreed.

“What makes you two think I’ve got any influence with Mr. Cramer?”

“What other girl has a weekly date with him?” Walsh asked.

“You gentlemen know we’re going to educational meetings at Springfield every Wednesday night.”

“Oh, that’s what they call it now,” Walsh said with a wink to the room in general.

Jean blushed. The teachers laughed at Jean’s embarrassment. But it was kind, gentle, friendly laughter, not jeering. They all knew that the popular, poised Jean would never date the staid, unimaginative Cramer. Why should she when she had more personable men interested in her?

At that moment Jean saw Cramer approach the door, then step aside gallantly to allow Rose Paget to enter. Miss Paget smiled at Cramer and clicked into the library on her three-inch heels. Her dark, curly hair was piled high at the crown of her head, and her black sheath dress complimented her dark coloring. She smiled at everyone in general and sat down beside Jack Walsh. 

“I see that you are all here,” Cramer said as he looked around at his staff. “Thank you for working this emergency meeting into your schedules. I know you’re all busy--” He didn’t see Jean’s quick glance at Zoe who in turn was looking across the room at Brian. “This meeting will be short. A matter has come up since the teachers’ meeting yesterday morning, and I felt it couldn’t wait.” Cramer also did not see Walsh look at Jean with an I told you so look. “This is April 1, ladies and gentlemen,” Cramer said as he swept the room with a serious look. “So I just wanted to say to you April Fools.”

In the sudden quiet, Lacey stopped doodling. Jean put down the ink stamp. Brian and Zoe stared at each other. Everyone looked at Cramer who was actually grinning at them.

“Oh, good grief,” Walsh muttered as he rose.

“Are you angry?” Cramer asked.

Walsh looked back at Cramer. “No. I just wished I’d thought of it. But it worked perfectly for you. Nobody would have suspected you of pulling some like this.”

“That’s all I wanted to see you about. I hope I haven’t disturbed your schedules too much.” He started to stuff papers into his briefcase.

Miss Paget walked out with Lacey and the muttering Walsh. Jean saw Craig help Zoe out of her chair and leave the library with her.

“Ready to go?” Brian asked Jean.

“Just a second,” she answered as she stuffed the ink stamp into a drawer and got to her feet.

“I don’t think my joke went over so well,” Cramer said to Brian and Jean.

“Oh, yes, it did,” Jean assured him. “You took us all by surprise.”

“Yeah,” Brian agreed. “I thought you were going to announce something else.” He gave Jean a meaningful look as he took her arm and led her out of the library. “Ready for our wedding?” he whispered. And outside the door, he said, “April Fools.”

Cramer heard Jean’s laugh and thought he had heard Mr. Landis say something about ‘our wedding.’ But that couldn’t possibly be! Not her and Landis!

“Miss Harnett is certainly happy today,” Miss Clapsattle twittered to Cramer as she walked past him. “She’s as happy as a bride.”

On second thought, it might not be so impossible about Mr. Landis and Miss Harnett, after all.

Cramer shoved the briefcase roughly shut and couldn’t prevent a look of disgust from crossing his face.

 

Jean sat in the front seat of Brian’s beat-up station wagon. She glanced at Brian’s intent face as he drove down the busy strip on the outskirts of Springfield. Car lights flashed on his face, but his eyes looked intently ahead. Never had Jean felt so tender toward this social outcast. She felt all warm and melting inside and loved him as a brother. How happy she was that Zoe was in love with him! How happy she was that they had found each other! Now, they would never have to feel alone again!

If they could only get this marriage thing pulled off!

At last Brian spotted the particular house he was searching for and turned in at the driveway. A big sign out front proclaiming that this was the residence of a Justice of the Peace blazed in electric lights on the front lawn.

Brian parked rather nervously, walked around the battered cream station wagon, and opened the door for Jean. They walked past the bright sign toward the cottage, heedless of the whizzing cars behind them. Suddenly, they both turned to the blare of a car horn.

“That looked like Sandy Kane.”

“I hope not, Jean. He’ll have this elopement spread all over Woodstock.”

“What elopement? Yours and mine? Zoe and Craig aren’t even here yet. To anyone else, it looks like you and I are getting married. But don’t worry. It was probably just someone honking at another car. I doubt if it was Sandy. Besides, no one knows we’re even together.”

“Nobody, except all the teachers who saw us leaving together tonight.” He scanned the passing cars. “I hope Craig was able to bring Zoe without anyone seeing them.”

“Well, Mrs. D. was at club tonight, so she wouldn’t have seen them when Zoe changed.”

“You didn’t tell Mrs. Doubleday about our plans, did you?!”

“Relax. We told no one. There are only four people who know of this elopement.”

Five. Five people knew. The fifth knew, or thought he knew. The honking car HAD belonged to Sandy Kane, and he drove fast back to Woodstock where the first, and the only, person he told was Robert Cramer. 

It had taken a little persuasion, but Cramer had convinced Sandy not to relate his sighting any further until the whole story was known. There might be a perfectly logical explanation for what Sandy had seen. The story, as it turned out, was larger than what Sandy or Cramer could have imagined.

 

After a wedding supper in Springfield, Jean drove Brian’s car home late that night. Zoe sat sadly beside her.

“Can you imagine?! Lobster?! The man goes and pays five dollars a piece for lobster and a baked potato! For all of us! You’d think he was made of money! Just for some shellfish and a potato with sour cream topping!”

“There was that nice side salad that went with it,” Jean tried to joke.

“Lettuce and carrot curls! And the damn hothouse tomatoes didn’t have any taste! I hope you got more than two thin slices on top! That‘s all I got, and I was the bride! I don‘t know what he was thinking! The Springfield House, of all places! You‘d think he was the last of the big time spenders!”

“It was his wedding supper, Zoe. He wanted it to be memorable.”

“It was for me! I could barely eat a bite!”

“You were nervous.”

“And what I did eat, I don’t remember! And what I did manage to get down, I thought was coming back up!”

“Once again, nerves.”

“I suppose,” Zoe mumbled her agreement. “Sorry I’m dumping on you,” she said with a sigh.

“Better me than on Brian.”

“Yeah. Otherwise, he’d wonder if he had married a bitch.”

“Now, he married an angel, and he knows it.”

“Oh, boy! That’s what I get for talking to Little Miss Sunshine, isn’t it?”

“You are in rare form tonight.”

“Sorry. Guess I’ve got other things on my mind tonight.”

“Yeah, I know. Tomorrow night will get here in its own good time.”

“I don’t know about any of that,” Zoe grumbled. “It’s slower than the second coming of--”

“Zoe!” Jean admonished with a laugh. “As they say in ‘The Music Man,’ 'Phraseology! Watch your Phraseology!'”

“Heaven help me, that brought me out of it. I just married the man, and now I’m starting to sound just like him.”

“I don’t remember that being part of your wedding vows. ‘Love, honor, and start talking like him.’”

“I suppose it goes with the territory.”

“It isn’t a bad territory, Zoe.”

“I know,” she said. “At last, I’m part of something. Of someone.”

“And I’m so happy for both of you. Did you remember to telegraph your uncle about your wonderful news?”

“Yeah,” Zoe mumbled. “He’ll be thrilled with the prospect of great nieces or great nephews sometime in the future. Of course, there won’t be the prospect of great nieces or great nephews without, well, you know.“ Then, “What a wedding night!”

“Now, Zoe, you know this was the arrangement. Marriage tonight, honeymoon tomorrow night. That way you’ll have all weekend for each other.”

“I know the plans! I helped to make them, remember?!”

“It isn’t going to help by getting emotional,” Jean said as she stopped the battered station wagon in front of Mrs. Doubleday’s house.

“You’re right.” Zoe studied her handkerchief. “When we made those plans, they sounded so logical. But, now, tonight....”

Jean put Zoe to bed and listened to her sniffle. At last she got tired of listening and went out to watch TV.

“Isn’t Zoe feeling very well this evening?” Mrs. D. asked as she and Jean sat watching the 10:00 news.

“Just a little melancholy. She’s had a hard day.”

 

Zoe was still melancholy when Brian arrived early the next morning.

“I thought about my car being parked out in front of your apartment,” he said to Jean on the front porch. “I decided I’d better move it before your neighbors woke up and saw it.” He paused and his eyes looked at Jean sheepishly. “How’s my girl this morning? And I don‘t mean you, Princess. I can see that you‘re just fine.”

“I know, Brian.”

Behind her, Jean heard Zoe come out of the bathroom. Jean stepped onto the front porch and closed the door. “I don’t want Zoe to hear your voice.” She took his arm and walked with Brian toward his car. “I won’t sugarcoat it. She’s blue. She had a terrible night, tossing, turning, crying out in her sleep.”

“I know what she went through.” He threw away his cigarette and viciously ground it into the sidewalk. “Damn smoking!”

Jean felt compassion for him and pulled his head down to kiss his cheek. “See you at school, Buster Brown,” she murmured.

He smiled wearily. “Sure, Princess. Love you, too.” He gave her a tight hug.

She reluctantly broke the hug and pushed him toward his car. “Get on with you now, so I won’t be late to school.”

He climbed into his wagon, waved at Jean, and pulled away toward the schoolhouse.

Jean lowered her hand from waving, glanced around quickly to see if anyone was watching, and then ducked into the house before anyone saw her outside not dressed for work.

But someone did see her. Old Mrs. Braun across the street had looked out her window in time to see Miss Harnett, in terry robe and slippers, kissing Mr. Landis who grabbed her in a fierce hug. Then they had waved longingly at each other before he had driven away in that old beaten up station wagon of his. Mrs. Braun would know that wreck anywhere. She had seen it enough recently. 

It had been the vehicle that had been parked in front of the Doubleday residence all night!

Mrs. Braun thought that it was her civic duty to notify the proper school authorities about what she had observed. After all, those scandalous people were doing nothing to hide what was going on.

Alida Cramer put down her pancake turner and answered the ringing phone. “Telephone, Bob!” she called upstairs.

Robert Cramer clicked off his electric shave, stepped into his bedroom, and picked up his extension.

As they say out in the Midwest, Mrs. Braun was fit to be tied.

 

Zoe leaned against Jean’s desk, watching as Jean dug through her filing cabinet. Nervously, Zoe chewed at her thumb. She had painted a bright smile on her face and was determined that she would live through this day, but already her will power had begun to ebb and first hour classes hadn’t even started yet.

“I can’t do it, Jean. I just can’t go through this day.”

“Relax,” Jean advised as she slammed the cabinet drawer shut and turned with a folder in her hand. “The day will pass. It’s bound to. Remember the old motto: This, too, shall pass.”

“It’s easy for you to be flippant. You aren’t in this ridiculous situation.” 

Jean patted Zoe’s arm. “I’m sorry, but being edgy and snappish isn’t going to help, either.”

Zoe smiled weakly. “I suppose not. Years from now, Brian and I will look back on this day and l-l-laugh!” A sob caught in her voice, and she put her hankie to her quivering lips.

“Have you seen Brian yet?”

Zoe shook her lowered head. “I’ve been avoiding the places he’d generally be before school. The office. My room. I just can’t see him and not be able to touch him. To be so near him, and yet so far away. I, I don’t believe I could take that today.”

At that moment Robert Cramer peeked cautiously into the room, and great surprise covered his face. He walked woodenly into the classroom and stared at Jean as if she were some incredible sight.

“Good morning, Mr. Cramer.”

He continued to stare at her.

“Mr. Cramer?”

Still nothing. 

Jean started to feel self-conscious as he stared at her. “Yes?” she inquired. 

That seemed to snap him out of it. “Good morning, Mrs., ah, Miss, ah, ah....”

“Harnet,” Jean prompted.

“Yes, yes, of course. Harnett. Ah, good morning, Miss.“ He frowned. “Ah, Harnett,” he said as if he’d never tried to speak her name before.

“Good morning.” She crossed her arms and waited, but he continued to stare at her. “Did you want to see me about something, Mr. Cramer?”

“Huh? Oh, yes. Yes, I did, Miss, ah, ah....” he muttered as he consulted a sheaf of papers in his hands.

What was his problem this morning?! “Harnett,” she prompted again.

“Yes. Of course. Harnett.” He tried to look businesslike. Miss Harnett, I hope that you haven’t forgotten that you are to have detention study hall next week after school.”

“I haven’t. I’ll be there.”

His wondering eyes looked at her closely. “Are you sure? If you want, I’ll switch you with someone else.”

“I might as well get it over with. After all, one week’s just as good as any other, isn‘t it?”

He recoiled. “It won’t interfere with any, ah, plans you might have made?”

She gestured wildly with her hands. “What personal plans could possibly be more important than my duty to Woodstock High?!”

Cramer jerked, then took one giant step backwards. “Of, of course. I just thought that maybe, ah. Never mind. Apparently, I was mistaken. Good morning, Miss, ah--“

“Harnett,“ she supplied. This was getting old. 

“Yes, yes, of course.“ As he turned to go, he saw Zoe still leaning against Jean’s blue steel desk. “Oh, Miss Bergetti, I’m glad you are here. I was wondering if--”

Zoe’s stormy eyes blazed into his, and all her pathos and suffering reflected on her pitiful face. Cramer recoiled from her, also.

“Is anything wrong, Miss Bergetti?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. “Not really.” Her bitter smile trembled on her lips. “I’m the h-h-happiest girl in the world! Excuse me.” Her heels clicked across the floor, and she disappeared into the hall before she burst into tears in front of him.

Cramer turned helplessly to Jean. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing you said,” Jean answered as she walked to her desk.

“Well, what’s wrong with her then? If you know what the problem is--”

“She’s under a strain, that’s all.”

Cramer recovered his professional decorum, and his voice became dignified once more. “Well, I’d certainly want to know if something were wrong with one of my faculty. Or if one, or maybe two, of them did something together that would affect this school, either directly or indirectly.”

At the mention of ‘two,’ Jean’s head shot up, and she found him watching her face closely. 

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Jean?”

She met his gaze squarely. “What would you like to hear?”

“Any trouble. Any problems. Any, ah, memorable event in your life. You know I’m your administrator and directly responsible for you, so I should be the first official notified as to any, ah, changes in your, ah, status.”

“I know that, yes.”

“Things should be out in the open between us. You should feel free to tell me anything, anything at all. You know that I am concerned with your welfare. Besides that, I DESERVE to know about any, ah, changes in your life so I can better answer public charges in your stead.”

She wasn’t quite sure she followed that last piece of logic. “Whatever are you talking about? What changes in me?”

He blushed and went on the defensive. “I’m simply saying that you should inform me as soon as possible about your, ah, circumstances. And, please, do not wait until it’s common knowledge. Don’t let it be a shock to the school administration. At least be that considerate of us.”

“I see.” She folded her arms and eyed him. Not only was she interested in his concern over her and over what he obviously considered a delicate situation, she was also curious as to what her dire circumstances were.

He took a deep breath. “Are you sure that there’s nothing you want to tell me?” His words were even and low and clipped, and his blue eyes behind his horn-rimmed glasses observed her intently.

“Nothing.”

“If you change your mind, you’ll let me know?”

“I’ll let you know.”

He risked more, even though he could plainly tell that she was put out by him. “As soon as possible.”

She nodded as if she was taking an oath. Which she was. “As soon as possible.”

He looked flustered for he had no further arguments and no smooth way to draw the conversation to a close. “E-excuse me then, Miss, ah, ah....” he said as he edged sideways toward the door.

“Harnett.” She did even edge it with any warmth.

“Yes. Harnett.” And he slipped through the door and was gone.

Jean relaxed with a deep sigh. What in the world was his problem!

Problems.

He could always seem to remember Zoe’s name, even if it was wrong now. What was so difficult about ‘Harnett?’

Jean shook her head in disbelief.

Now, whatever was in his little black heart, she thought. What terrible sin had she committed and somehow forgotten? What was obviously putting his heart in a lather now?

That is, if the rumors were false, and he really did have a heart.

 

Between classes, Jean popped into the superintendent’s office to check her mailbox and was busy throwing junk letters in the circular file when the office girl spoke.

“Good morning, Miss Harnett,” the bubbly gal said in her breathless, little-girl way. “How are you today?”

Jean flashed her a ten-carat smile. “Perfectly gorgeous! And how’s your husband and that little baby of yours? Did Tammy get over her cold yet?”

“Oh, yes, finally! But it took three trips to see Doc Albright.”

“Really?” Jean supposed Diane was Jean’s age. If Jean had married Dex, her high school steady, or even Ronnie, she’d probably have children by now, too.

Diane tipped her head sideways. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay today?”

“Sure! Never better! Good grief,” she muttered as she looked at a circular. “Listen to this! ‘Come to Merrie Olde England!’” she read. “’See historical Edinburgh! Feel the charm of London Town! Thrill to Shakespeare’s Stratford-on-Avon! Only $1750!’ ONLY $1750! Good grief, if I had that kind of money, I’d be buying stuff for my hopeless chest.” She thought about Diane’s question. “Why? Do I look ill?”

“No. In fact, you look great. But Mr. Cramer came in here this morning and asked if you had phoned in ill yet. I told him you hadn’t. He was going to ask about someone else when Mr. Landis came in. Mr. Cramer said to never mind and left. I don’t know why Mr. Cramer thought you were ill. You’re positively glowing.” Diane looked dreamy eyed. “Just like a bride, even.”

Bride?! 

“Why do you say that? About the bride?”

“Oh, I guess love is in the air. Spring seems to be here, at last. And I suppose I’m just in the mood for romance.” She winked at Jean. “My husband better watch out, huh?”

Jean laughed with her, thankful that the discussion was about brides in general.

“But like I said, Miss Harnett. You’re positively glowing. There’s nothing wrong with your health.”

“Thanks, Diane.” Suddenly, the bell rang. “Oops! Gotta run!” And Jean scurried out of the office.

 

At lunchtime, Jean balanced her tray in her hands and parked beside Brian at the faculty table.

“Beans!” Brian grumbled as he looked at his own tray. “Wouldn’t you know it? Today of all days. Navy beans!”

Jean grinned at his dilemma and patted his arm with affection.

Craig sat down on Jean’s right side, and Zoe slipped in on the other side of Craig.

Brian looked around Jean and Craig at Zoe’s downcast head.

“Jean,” he muttered. “I swear to God, the next time I get married, I won’t wait a whole day for my honeymoon.”

Jean pressed close to him in sympathy. And as she pulled away, she saw Cramer’s disapproving eyes glaring at her from across the table. She arched her eyebrow slightly, then went back to her own plate of navy beans and cornbread.

 

Jean sat grading papers in her classroom when she looked up to see Robert Cramer entering the door.

“Good afternoon, Miss Harnett,” he said cautiously. “I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

She smiled broadly. Not even the appearance of Cramer was going to dampen her spirits today. She had put his look of disapproval at lunch firmly out of her mind. “Hi, there! Great day, isn’t it?!”

Her enthusiasm immediately seemed to put him into a blacker mood. “For some people, I expect it is,” he muttered.

‘Now what?’ she wondered as he drifted toward the window. ‘He’s worried about something, and he’s trying to find the best way to approach the subject.’ A new thought came to her. ‘Maybe he’s found out about the elopement! I’d better watch what I say.’

“Craig Martin is really a nice guy, isn’t he?” Cramer asked, barely controlling the rage in his voice.

‘Craig?!’

“Why, you bet! I’d fight anyone who said differently.”

He looked puzzled, then it turned to disgust. “I like him, too, Miss Harnett, as a teacher and as a person. That’s why I hate to see you hurt him like this.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand--”

“Oh, you understand me, all right! It is I who don’t understand you! Or, maybe I’m beginning to. For the first time I can see for what you really are. You know, your little act of the sweet, flustered child is most convincing. But underneath all of that froth, you’re really as hard as nails, aren‘t you?!”

Jean jumped to her feet. “Now, wait a minute!”

“Normally, I don’t interfere with the personal lives of my teachers. But I can’t be nonpartisan now. Personally, I’m at a loss as to how you could be so callous. Don’t you think that other people have feelings? Watching you lately, you’ve made me lose my faith in human goodness.” He clinched his lips together as if to control his temper. “I suppose I should just mind my own business,” he muttered and rushed out. At the door he paused and looked back at Jean. “I don’t understand why and I can’t say that I approve, but I suppose I should wish you every happiness.”

“For what?!” Jean demanded wildly.

He shook his head. Anger and disappointment were clearly etched on his face. “You’ve just proved what I’ve been saying.”

“Wait--”

But he was gone.

Jean discovered that she was breathing very hard and that her eyes were stinging with unshed tears. His unwarranted disgust with her hurt her deeply.

What in the name of Woodstock High was wrong with him?! He believed she had done something terribly wrong. That was obvious. But, what?! What had his little black heart brewed up about her, now?

 

The final bell rang and Jean was stuffing papers in her desk drawer when Zoe popped her head in the door. 

“Ready?” she demanded. Her eyes were shining and she seemed in very good spirits. “Oh, Jean, I made it!” she crowed as they walked down the hall. “I didn’t think I would, but I did.”

Jean smiled. “Neither did I.”

They joined Brian and Craig in the faculty parking lot. Brian gazed intensely at Zoe who blushed and looked away demurely.

“I gotta see if this old tub will run,” Brian said as he slid under the wheel.

“It better,” Zoe declared, “Or we’re hitchhiking!”

Craig and Jean laughed at Zoe, and Jean patted her on the back.

The battered cream station wagon coughed several times, and the engine finally turned over. Brian stepped on the gas and the car roared with power.

“Sounds okay, Brian!” Craig called. 

‘Yeah, it’ll get us to where we’re going.”

“You wouldn’t care to name that place, would you, Brian?”

Brian gave her a wise look. “Yes, Jean, I would care.”

Jean laughed.

“Well, Jean, this is it--” At the moment of departure, the moment she’d waited for all day, Zoe was reluctant to leave.

“Go on, will you?!” Jean pushed Zoe toward the car, but at the last minute, jumped inside herself. “Hold on a minute. I left some odds and ends in the glove compartment,” she said as she dug through the junk.

At that moment, Robert Cramer, attracted by the sound of the reverberating motor, looked out of the study hall window. One story below, he saw Zoe and Craig seeing Brian and Jean off. Cramer pursed his lips. So that was that. The rumors were true. Landis and Jean had really gotten married last night. He tried to feel impersonal about the matter, but he couldn’t keep anger and frustration from rising in him.

How dare she?!

He turned abruptly and hurried away from the window. He had work to do. Work, he understood. People were another matter, especially people named Jean Harnett. 

Correction, he thought.

Jean Landis.

Jean Landis. Jean Landis. Would he be able to remember that name any better than he had Jean Harnett?

He doubted it.

Outside, Jean jumped out of the car so Zoe could take her place. And the newlyweds left on their weekend honeymoon.

 

Jean, back in her classroom a few minutes later, gathered the papers she would grade that weekend and added the gothic romance she’d wanted to read for a month. There would be time for the novel now that Zoe was indeed on her way.

Jean pulled the door closed behind her and hurried down the hallway. Now that Brian and Zoe were truly gone, she wanted to get back to her apartment and vitally involved in work before she started missing Zoe too much. It would be a really quiet weekend without Zoe and Brian around.

Jean hurried past the superintendent’s office. Cramer was coming out, but he was deeply engrossed in the papers he was scanning.

“Good night, Mr. Cramer,” Jean called as she passed him. “Have a nice weekend.”

“Good evening, Miss Harnett,” he muttered absently. “Thank you, I will. The same to you.”

“Thank you.”

Cramer whirled in disbelief. “Miss, HARNETT?!”

“Yes?!” Jean whirled, too, her hand over her fluttering heart and gasped out, “Is something, wrong?”

He approached her, staring at her as if he couldn’t believe whom he was seeing. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, but, but I thought you’d left already.”

“Left?” she echoed.

“But didn’t you and Mr.-- I mean, are you SURE there’s nothing you want to tell me?”

“Mr. Cramer, just WHAT has been bothering you all day?”

He owed her that much. And maybe he could get some answers himself. Cramer took a deep breath. “According to information from various sources, I was under the assumption that you and Mr. Landis had, well, had gotten married last night.”

Jean stared at him, stunned. “Oh, my goodness. Does anyone else know about this?”

He shook his head.

“Well, I guess I’d better tell you a secret. You see, Mr. Cramer, you were half right--”

 

Monday dawned and with it arrived the happy honeymooners. Their news surprised and delighted everyone, and everyone congratulated the blushing Zoe and the smiling Landis. Someone told Zoe that all humanity was grateful to her for changing Landis’s frown into a grin. Zoe thanked the person, but confessed that it had been her pleasure.

That evening, Jean helped Zoe move her things to Brian’s apartment. Jean noted a few household items they needed, for she knew people would be asking her for gift suggestions.

On Tuesday night, there was a shivaree attended by faculty, students, and local townspeople. Zoe and Brian were dragged from their apartment by well-wishers, and Brian had to push a wheelbarrow containing Zoe through several streets to the town hall. Here, refreshments of lemonade and cookies awaited. Then everyone sat around and talked until ten, when they congratulated Zoe and Brian and said goodnight. Brian was impressed that so many people wished them well, and Zoe said they had done it for her sake. Jean laughed and knew they were going to be happy together.

 

After such an eventful weekend, the Wednesday night trip to Springfield seemed like an anticlimax.

Cramer had asked Jean to be ready early, and she had to leave Woodstock without her supper. Cramer was unusually quiet all the way to Springfield, and then he turned abruptly into a restaurant parking lot along the strip.

“Since I didn’t allow you time to eat your evening meal, I think it is only fair that we dine here,” he said as he refused the menus that the waitress was trying to hand to him. “Two steaks, Miss. Medium rare. Green salads with Thousand Island dressing. Baked potatoes with sour cream. And black coffee.”

“You remembered,” Jean said as the waitress left.

“Of course.”

She tilted her head at him. “I doubt if very many teachers get TWO meals free, compliments of the Woodstock Educational Association.”

“Your correct. This meal’s on me.”

“Oh?”

“It’s my way of saying I’m sorry for the things I thought about you and said to you last Friday.”

“That really isn’t necessary, Mr. Cramer.”

“Yes, it is. I misjudged you. I let circumstantial evidence form my opinion instead of seeking out the truth. I sat up in my office that day and brooded over your elopement with Landis after you’d seen so much of Martin. The longer I brooded, the madder I got. And I finally decided to tell you just what I thought of your loyalty. You’ll never know how foolish I felt when I learned the truth.”

“But you didn’t have to go to all this trouble. All you needed was a simple ‘I’m sorry.’”

“Let me do it this way, okay?”

She smiled at him warmly. “Okay. But let’s just forget the whole thing and enjoy dinner,” she said as the food arrived. “I’m starved!”

 

Jean hummed to herself as she mounted the steps from the elementary to the secondary level that next Monday morning. She paused at the bulletin board, pulled a piece of newspaper from her English I textbook, and, still humming, secured it to the plywood with a thumbtack. She cocked her head this way and that, then smiled at the news item. Brenna’s picture was certainly clear.

She heard steps behind her and smiled at Cramer as he approached, but he didn’t smile back. His face was set in a gloomy scowl, and he pulled himself up the stairs with the handrail as though he were very, very tired.

Jean decided to ignore his visage of gloom and doom. “Mr. Cramer!“ she greeted him. “How are you feeling this bright, sunshiny morning?”

“Fine.” He drew a deep breath and frowned. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

Jean beamed. “So, you’ve heard!”

“Yes. This weekend. After you left.” He pursed his lips slightly. “I understand Mr. Martin has purchased a ring.”

“That’s right. A diamond solitaire. And it’s so beautiful. I cried when I saw it.”

“Of course,” he said crisply. “I’d expect you to be happy about an engagement.”

“Oh, yes,” she gushed. “Very!”

“I’ve been expecting this for quite some time.”

“Me, too!”

“When is the marriage?” he asked, as though he were inquiring about a death in the family.

“In June. Craig says the sooner the better, and I see no reason for waiting. Then, if he wants to go to summer school, he will have his mind free to study.”

“Yes! I expect anything as mundane as a marriage ceremony should be gotten through quickly, with as little inconvenience as possible!” he snapped.

“But I didn’t mean to sound--” she stammered, confused about his intense anger.

“Marriage happens to be a very sacred church sacrament, Miss Harnett, and I will not listen to anyone making light of it!”

“I wasn’t doing that. I was simply telling you about Craig’s plans. His marriage will last a lifetime, you know. He isn’t doing this just for kicks, and neither is Brenna.”

Cramer gave her a blank look. “Brenna? Who is Brenna?”

Jean gestured toward the bulletin board. “See for yourself.”

He looked as though he didn’t quite trust her, but leaned forward to read the announcement. Suddenly he straightened and stared at her. “Your SISTER? Martin is marrying your SISTER?!”

“Well, of course, my sister? Who’d you think Craig proposed to? Me?!” She paused. “Oh. You, ah, didn’t know that I had a sister, I suppose, or, ah, that Craig dated her. Did, ah, you?”

Cramer grinned broadly. “Your sister. You’ve got a sister. Well, isn’t that nice. And how did this little romance come about, anyway?”

“Craig has an aunt living in Canton, and I rode home with him on the weekends when he visited her.”

“And I suppose you even introduced him to your sister?”

She didn’t like his over-jolly smile. It wasn’t like him. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

He chuckled softly as he grasped his elbows. “Well, what do you know about that? You introduced them. And I suppose it was your sister that Martin went to see those weekends when you two left together.”

“Of course. He stayed with his aunt and dated Brenna.”

“How very nice. Very nice, indeed.”

She didn’t like this sudden change in him. His eyes had lost their tense, sad look. And, she thought, if he got any happier, he’d start dancing. Maybe some slow, elegant waltz right here in the hall all by himself. She had never seen him so happy. He seemed greatly relieved about something, and that somehow offended her.

“I fail to see how you can be so pleased about my sister when you’ve never even met her.”

“Oh, but I am, Miss Harnett,” he said, fighting a grin and not being very successful. “Greatly pleased.”

“There’s something about this whole situation that pleases you more. Come on, give. What is it?”

“Why, if you’re not marrying Martin, that means I could still talk you into staying here next year. I’d really hate to look for a teacher to replace you.”

“That won’t be hard to do,” she said icily. “Look for an idiot.”

He pointed his index finger at her. “You said it. I didn’t.”

His grin was maddening. He was so sure of himself. “Nothing you can ever say or do will ever convince me to stay here,” she said with crossed arms.

“Will, I can always try, can’t I? And now I’ve got an extra advantage. All of the men in your life are engaged or married off. What a blessing that I don’t have to look for a new English teacher.”

She uncrossed her arms. “Is that so? You don’t know everything! I’ll, I’ll just go out and get myself a new boyfriend!”

But he grinned and moved down the hall, humming a tune. He gallantly tipped his hat to the new person he met. “Go-o-od morning, Miss Clapsattle. And how’s every little thing in the secretarial world?”

Miss Clapsattle fluttered over to Jean, her hand over her heart. “My goodness! Mr. Cramer is certainly beaming today. Do you know why?”

“He’s pleased about Mr. Martin. He and my sister have announced their engagement.”

“Oh? Really? How wonderful!” A wrinkle creased her tiny brow. “But why would that make Mr. Cramer so happy?”

“That, Miss Clapsattle, is hard to tell.”

Martha Clapsattle tried to work on the problem, then smiled and gave up. “When is the wedding, my dear?”

Jean heard the tone of interest in her voice and turned to answer. But she couldn’t get Cramer’s radical change of attitude out of her mind.

And he didn’t change back, either. Cramer was so nauseatingly cheerful that everyone noticed it.

“What gives?” Brian complained. “Has my shining example of pessimistic gloom betrayed me? Who will I have for a hero and role model now?”

But Jean was so perplexed by Cramer’s heartiness that she couldn’t answer Brian. All year, Cramer had been trying to win a contest with Jean, and now he figured he had.

 

“Von Cramer seems awfully satisfied these days, Jean,” Craig said as he lounged against her desk and watched her filing papers in a cabinet. “Do you know why?”

“Why should I know?!” she snapped, then wished she hadn’t. Craig was only curious.

“That edge to your voice says you do.”

Jean slammed the filing cabinet drawer shut and turned back to her desk in her classroom. “I’m sorry, Craig. I don’t mean to be so touchy about it. Cramer’s been acting that way ever since you and Brenna announced your engagement.”

Craig frowned. “Why should my engagement please him?”

“Because all of my men are taken, and I have no reason now to leave Woodstock!”

Craig laughed. “Does Cramer think boyfriends are the only thing on your mind? Does he suppose that if you didn’t have some pesky man hanging around taking up your time, you’d dedicate your whole life to education?”

Jean crossed her arms. “I don’t know what warped logic he’s using, but he’s trying my patience!”

Craig sobered. “Hang on a little longer, Jean. Soon we’ll both be out of here for good.”

Jean breathed deeply. Craig was right.

 

“Oh, look at the time!” Jean exclaimed as she pointed at the electric sign on the Springfield Bank. “We’re going to be early to the meeting!”

“There’s no bad roads to slow us up tonight. We’ll have a few minutes to circulate.”

Once inside the meeting room, Cramer was cornered immediately, and he saw Jean wander off. Then Cramer had to pay attention to the man who’d stopped him.

“Cramer! So glad you’re early!” bellowed the red-faced, obese man with his glad hand and too jolly of a smile on his creased jowls. “Gives us a chance to chat! Len Barrett of Knoxville here!”

“I know who you are, Mr. Barrett,” Cramer said primly as he tried to retrieve his hand. This was NOT the contact Cramer had wanted to make. Barrett was a school superintendent who was more of a politician than an educator. He probably wanted something from Cramer, and Cramer’s intention was to discuss educational theory. Cramer couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice. “What do you want?” 

“Ha Ha! You’ve got me pegged, Cramer! One word of advice first: if you’re going to make it in the administration game, you’ve got to PLAY the game!”

Cramer did not want to argue with this jerk. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Barrett.”

“First year as principal, isn’t it? Hang in there! You’ll learn.” He frowned and tried to look serious. “There’s a bunch of us going to a statewide educational meeting in May. Do you and your, ah--” He winked. “--English teacher want to come along?”

“I can’t speak for Miss Harnett--”

“I’d hope not! She’s quite outspoken herself! She’s the reason you’re getting the invitation.” He winked at Cramer. “We won’t be in a meeting all the time, you know. IF, you know what I mean.”

Cramer pursed his lips. “I think I do. I’ll think about it.”

“What’s to think about?! You’ve got to loosen up, man! Relax! Have a little fun! Otherwise, this administration game’s gonna burn you out and leave just a little pile of chalk on the classroom floor where you used to stand. You owe it to your school to regenerate yourself. And if educational meetings are the way to do it, well,” he shrugged. “--so be it. Job performance is what counts. The school board doesn’t care how you get ‘regenerated,’ just so you do a good job.”

Cramer could hardly advocate the man’s ideas, but he was realistic enough to know that his type of administrator existed.

“Don’t cheat yourself out of the good life, Cramer.”

Cramer felt irritated, but held his temper. “I’ll get more information about the meeting and discuss it with my teacher.”

“Looks like she might be discussing it with someone already.”

Cramer looked in the direction Barrett was indicating with his nod. Jean was in an animated conversation with a young, good-looking man on the other side of the room.

Barrett slung his arm around Cramer’s shoulders.

“Three days in a luxury hotel! Think about it! No prying eyes will be around. And, if for some odd reason your English teacher isn’t to your tastes, there will be plenty of other women there who might be. Variety is the spice, so they say!”

Cramer shrank from the man’s touch and tried not to push away too obviously. “I will think about it.” But not too hard, he thought. “Excuse me now. I believe that the meeting’s about to start.” He turned and sought out a chair across the room from Barrett.

Jean slid into the chair beside Cramer and noted his irritated look. “Something wrong?”

“We’ll discuss it later.” If ever, he thought. A lady shouldn’t be embarrassed by what he’d heard.

“Sorry. I guess we got separated.”

“You seemed to have made a new friend,” he spat out, sounding as irritated as when he’d been thinking about Barrett.

“That’s Steve Berends from right here in Springfield. He’s filling in for someone who’s sick this evening.”

“You acted like you knew him before.”

“But I do! Well, slightly. We have mutual friends. And his folks have a cabin on the same lake where my parents do. We’ve seen each other on vacation, but had never really met. Small world, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes too small.”

She leaned toward him with a twinkle in her eyes. “Are you jealous?”

He jerked upright. “No! I am not--” He glanced around at the people attracted to his outburst. “--jealous!” he whispered in a harsh hiss at Jean.

“What did that Barrett tell you, then?”

“You know him, too?!”

“I know the type,” she snipped. “He’s a bull-shipper of the first water.”

“A, what?!”

Several people sitting near them threw them a glance, and Cramer tried to make himself small in his chair.

“Shh!” Jean cautioned. “The meeting’s starting.”

 

Cramer calmed down in the dry, sensible talk of the educational meeting and was almost mellow until the meeting was over, and Jean’s acquaintance approached them as the meeting was breaking up.

“Jean! Hold it a minute!” He propelled her aside.

“Steve! I want you to meet my principal, Robert Cramer. Mr. Cramer, this is Steve Berends.”

The men solemnly shook hands and mumbled greetings which neither understood, nor intended to understand.

“Jean, I want to see you again,” Berends whispered against her hair. 

At that moment, someone pulled Cramer aside.

Berends saw his opportunity. “Maybe we could do something without your, ah, watch dog. He looks kind of cranky. Does he suffer from dyspepsia?”

Jean giggled. “No. Just serious mindedness.”

“Well, I‘m sorry that you‘ve been having to travel with him for all of these meetings. It must‘ve been trying.”

She shrugged. “It wasn‘t too bad. And now it‘s almost over.”

He leaned back toward her ear and whispered, “But, anyway, back to what I was saying. I really would like to see you again.” 

“I’m in the book,” she whispered back. “Call me.”

He glanced at Cramer glaring at them. “You better go now, or you’ll have to stand in the corner.”

She tried to wipe her smile away as she turned away from Steve, but failed. She saw that Cramer was no longer talking to someone. He was, in fact, waiting rather impatiently for her.

“Well, did you get your socializing all done?” Cramer snipped.

“For this evening.” She took his arm. “Relax. It’s innocent fun.”

“Seems I’ve heard this already once this evening,” Cramer grumbled as they headed for the door. 

“What do you mean?” Jean wanted to know.

“Some of the administrators here have a different agenda than the official one listed for this series of meetings.”

She frowned at him. “When did you become so inscrutable?”

That’s when Cramer decided to relax. “Am I acting uptight, again?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“My brothers accuse me of it. You might as well, also.”

“Brothers, eh? They are a pretty perceptive pair, aren’t they?”

“Ouch! Okay. I know where you stand on that issue. What say we just forget about this discussion, and just enjoy a nice ride back to Woodstock? It’s a lovely evening, and spring is definitely here.”

She grinned as she squeezed his arm. “Now you are talking, Mr. Cramer!”

 

Jean looked up from her desk. “Good morning, Mr. Cramer. How are you today?”

He didn’t return the social amenities, and she could tell by the grim set of his mouth that he was displeased with her, again!

She decided to save him the trouble of trying to figure out how to broach his topic with her. “Is there a problem, Mr. Cramer?”

“You might say that,“ He was trying not to spit out his words, and failing. “I got a letter from Milford High School this morning.”

“Oh?” She’d sent an application to Milford.

“The principal there wanted to know if I really recommend you for a position in their English department.”

“And will you?”

“You know I will.” He pursed his lips. “That isn’t the point. I thought I wouldn’t have to. I thought you were staying here.”

He was starting to anger her. “I never said I was. YOU said I was.”

“Sorry for my assumptions,” he spat out, then covered his anger. “There is still time to sign our contract.”

“I know. In the meantime, I plan to look at other schools. I’m leaving my options open,” she said airily, knowing how snobbish she must be sounding to him.

“One must always have options, I suppose,” he replied in the same airy manner, condescending manner. 

“I knew that you would understand my position.”

“I understand that you are a catalyst for catastrophe! If some school is in the market for a teacher who draws trouble like a thirsty sponge draws water, by all means, apply! Let some other administrator face the challenge of a lifetime. Surely some adventurous school out there is willing to hire you!”

She glared at him. “According to you, Woodstock is.”

“We’re used to you,” he muttered. “And you’re used to us. You’d better stay where people understand you.”

“If I’d done that, stayed where people understood me, I’d never have left my parents’ home. Think what a loss that would have been for the rest of the world.”

“Now you’re being sarcastic.”

“How else am I supposed to be?! Your badgering isn’t exactly my idea of a fun activity.”

“I think you’re making a mistake by leaving.”

“It’s my decision.”

He frowned. “Of course.”

“Look, I’m having a hard enough time this year the way it is. You might be a little more sympathetic. Indulge my whims.”

“That’s not a very practical way to run your life.”

“Does that surprise you? About me?!”

“You need to think with your head, and not with your heart.”

“I do things differently than you do, but that doesn’t make my ways wrong, just different. At least I have a heart to think with.”

“Meaning I don’t?”

“Meaning whatever you want it to mean.”

“You want me to think with my heart?”

“Try anything once, twice if you like it.”

“This discussion is getting us nowhere. We must return to our duties now. Excuse me.”

She watched him walk away and wished he wouldn’t have used that prissy tone in his voice. At least he’d lost his smug satisfaction, thanks to her. But instead of feeling triumphant, she was goaded by a twinge of shame. She could’ve been nicer, even if she was aggravated with him. Her mama had raised her better than that.

 

“Now Von Cramer acts like he’s sucking on a sour lemon all the time,” Craig complained as he watched Jean writing on the blackboard in her classroom. “What did you do to him now?”

Jean flapped her arms as she whirled in anger. “Make up your mind, Craig! Do you want Cramer jubilant or morose? I apparently have the power to choose his moods, so pick away!”

Craig pulled away from her attack and frowned. “How about a nice, simple, NORMAL, mood? That would be refreshing for a change. Then other people can get back to their own lives.”

“Normal for other people, or normal for Cramer?”

“You might have a point.” His frown deepened. “Your temper’s been awfully short lately.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on, I’m taking you for a ride.”

Jean held back. “A ride? Where?”

“Around the lake. We’ll pick up sandwich fixings and some fruit and go watch the sun go down over the water. It’ll be relaxing.”

“I don’t have time to do that! I’ve got school work!”

“You’d better MAKE time, Jean. You need a break. Better take it while you can get it.”

He was right, of course. They ate bologna sandwiches and potato chips and bananas, then washed it all down with soda pop. It wasn’t a menu that would ever be recommended by a doctor, but the diversion most certainly would have been. Craig had been exactly correct in his solution. The evening regenerated Jean so that she met her classes the next morning with a sincere smile, even if she wasn’t entirely prepared for the day‘s lesson. She found that she had enough experience and enthusiasm by this point that she could improvise, and the students still learned and participated. And those were the most important things that a teacher could provide for students.

The evening with Craig had also given her perspective. This school year wouldn’t last forever. She simply had to last a little longer, that was all. Freedom was only a few short weeks away. She was young. She could start again, and all would be alright.

 

Cramer stepped into the English room, and Jean laid aside her pen and waited. What challenge awaited for her now from him?

“I wonder if you could take care of this for me,” he said without one note of inflection in his voice as he handed an envelope to her.

Jean recognized Brenna’s handwriting. It was a wedding invitation addressed to the Woodstock faculty.

“Could you post it somewhere conspicuously?”

“I know the perfect spot. The teacher’s lounge.”

“Fine. I’ll leave the arrangements up to you.”

Being reminded of Brenna’s wedding softened her heart, and she smiled wistfully up at him. “Just think, my little sister is getting married.”

Her softness must’ve offended him. “Little sisters do that,” he snapped.

Why, you old grouch! she thought and felt her temper rising. “Yes, and older brothers sometimes don’t wait for a church ceremony, do they? They elope,” she snapped back. She saw him flinch. Good. She’d hurt him. But he’d hurt her first. Now he knew how it felt.

The English room quieted as they each waited for an apology. They couldn’t glare at each other indefinitely.

“Jean? Guess what? Brian and I got an invitation to the wedding! Oh,” Zoe stopped as she saw their angry faces. “Was I interrupting anything?”

“Nothing at all, Mrs. Landis,” Cramer muttered as he headed for the door. “I was just leaving.”

Zoe turned back to Jean. “Whew! What was that all about?”

“Oh, he was being snide, and I was snide right back.”

“Good for you! I’m proud of you, Jean.”

“Well, I’m not proud of myself. Mr. Cramer has a lot of problems. I guess I shouldn’t be one of them. I should be more sympathetic.”

“Did he ask you to adopt him? He’s a big boy now. Let him take care of his own problems.”

“I know him better than you do, Zoe. He’s very sensitive and appreciates kindness.”

“Most people do.”

“But I’ve let some pettiness come between us lately, and I should remember that the important thing is to stay friends with him, no matter what.”

“That’s very noble, but does this friendship mean you have to be a target for his ill humor?”

“I know that sometimes I’m a trial, too. Besides, every project I’ve wanted to start, he’s backed me, whether he agreed with me or not.”

“Oh, he was being a good principal, that’s all. I remember a time when you could barely tolerate him.”

“And I remember a certain teacher who loathed Brian Landis. Understand they’re married to each other now.”

“But that’s different.”

“How? All you did was to understand Brian.”

Zoe shook her head. “No. I fell in love with him. I still don’t understand him.” She pursed her lips. “Jean, you’re mistaken about Cramer’s friendship. He doesn’t really need anybody. You wait. He’ll use that friendship to get something he wants from you.”

“Oh, I can hardly believe that.”

The bell rang.

“I have to be going, Jean. The kids will be tearing my classroom apart.” She smiled. “I sound more like Brian everyday, don‘t I?” She waved her hand. “See you.”

Jean played with the wedding invitation while her next class filed into the room. Next month at this time, Jean would be marching down the aisle as Brenna’s maid-of-honor.

Her little sister was getting married.

And that made Jean an old maid.

 

Jean steeled herself. It was time to mend fences with Cramer. She poked her head inside the door of the principal’s office. “May I have a few moments, Mr. Cramer?”

Cramer shuffled some papers on his desk. “Of course. Come in. Excuse the mess. Senior theses are due.”

“No problem. I have a similar mess.” She glanced around. “May I close the door?”

“If you wish.” He frowned as she continued to stand. “Won’t you sit down?”

“No, thank you. I prefer to stand. I couldn’t sit. I’m too nervous.”

He frowned. “Nervous?”

She twisted her hands. “I’ve come to apologize, and I don’t know where to start.”

“Apologize?”

“For the way I’ve been acting.” She perched on the wooden chair she’d been offered. “I’m not really mad at you, just frustrated.”

“Mad at me?”

“Will you stop repeating my words?! Sorry,” she mumbled.

“I didn’t intend to mock you, but I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

You do, too, understand, she wanted to scream. Don’t make this any harder than it already is! But she held her tongue. She’d come to apologize, not be drawn into another argument with him.

Jean took a deep breath. “When I’ve talked to you lately, I’ve sounded snippy, even to myself.”

“I expect I’ve sounded rather snippy myself. I haven’t been too proud of my behavior, either. I should’ve been more understanding of your viewpoint. Changing schools must be quite stressful for you.”

“But I didn’t need to take it out on you!”

“I was handy, I suppose.” He gave her a thin-lipped smile. “And you were right the other day. I could’ve helped instead of badgering you about signing our contract for next year. I should’ve been more supportive.”

“Oh, you have been! All year. And I do appreciate it.”

“Thank you. And I hope you understand that I was only thinking of your future when I was arguing with you. As your administrator, I needed to advise you about your professional career.”

Jean’s smile faded. She felt that he wasn’t being truthful, and she was disappointed in him. “Of course. You were simply doing your job.”

Cramer frowned. He’d seen the cool change in her and suspected the cause. “No, it wasn’t part of my job. Not when I lost my temper. I shouldn’t have let my personal feelings interfere, nor should I have voiced my personal opinion. I was out of line then. I wasn’t very professional myself. And for that, I do apologize.”

“Apology accepted,” she murmured.

“I don’t have the right to be telling you what to do with your future. It’s really none of my business.”

“You were being a friend,” she said gently. “If I hadn’t been so fragile about the situation, I should’ve realized that you were simply looking out for me, as a good friend should. And for that, I thank you.”

“I still think it’s in your best interests to stay here next year.” He frowned. “And mine. Okay, I’ll admit it. I hate to see you go. You’re one of the few friends I have. Despite the frustrations you’ve caused me, I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you,” she answered gently. 

He grinned. “I guess that really does make us friends, doesn’t it?”

She liked him so much better this way. “I certainly hope so,” she murmured.

He straightened. “I’m glad that’s all cleared up. Tomorrow night is the last county teachers’ meeting. Suppose we leave early and celebrate by having dinner in Springfield?”

She smiled broadly. “Sounds great! Dutch treat?”

“No. My treat.”

She tilted her head. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really. As a thank you for putting up with my company for all these many weeks.”

“If that’s your criteria, I should be treating you to dinner,” she said seriously.

He grinned. “It hasn’t been all that bad, Miss Harnett. The experience has been rather, ah, unique, though.” He rustled the papers before him. “You really have to excuse me now. All of this work is waiting for me.”

She stood. “I have to be getting back to my work, too.” She stepped toward the door.

“Jean?”

She looked back from the door. “Yes?”

“Thanks for coming in. I’m glad we’re not fighting anymore.”

Her smile was dazzling. “Me, too, Bob. See you tomorrow night.”

He returned her smile. “Until then.”

After she left, Cramer sat feeling warm inside until the grin on his face began to hurt. He relaxed the smile, but the warmth inside him prevented him from concentrating on the papers before him. At last, he tossed them aside and stared out the window. Odd, he hadn’t noticed all those flowers blooming or heard the birds singing before. Spring was back in Woodstock, and he decided not to miss any more of it. Grading papers could wait. This display before him was far more important.

Out in the hallway, Jean still wore her dazzling smile and enchanted everyone she met. But all she was conscious of was the light-headed release his acceptance of her apology had given her. She was happy that the rift between them was healed.

 

“I want to thank you for a lovely dinner,” Jean said as they left the restaurant. “But that steak was so expensive!”

“It was a special meal,” he said as he took her arm.

“And you made me feel special, Bob. It more than makes up for the past week.”

“Thanks for letting me apologize my way.”

“It’s as important to let other people apologize as it is to apologize yourself. And if we get anymore sticky with these apologies, we’re going to spit up those beautiful steaks.”

They eyed each other, then broke out in laughter.

He held the car door open for her. “Maybe we can have dinner sometime when I don’t have to apologize for something.”

“I’d like that, Bob.” She grinned. “And it would be rather different. Wouldn‘t it?”

He grinned back. “It certainly would.”

 

After the meeting was over and they were headed back to Woodstock, Robert Cramer glanced at his passenger. “Sleepy?”

“Yes. Sorry. I’ve had a couple of late nights.”

“Why don’t you lay your head back and try to rest?” He turned on the radio for company.

Quiet miles slipped under the tires. Now the soft strains of the “Moonglow and Picnic Theme” blended with the monotonous hum of Cramer’s old Ford as it traveled through the dark, moonless night. The stars were only a billion points of hard light above Cramer. Hills and farm buildings were dark shapes and seemed foreboding and secretive without their friendly lights. The night seemed unreal and ethereal, with a well guarded mystery it didn’t want revealed. The only passage of time for the car’s driver was marked by the familiar curves and bends of Highway 25. That, and the music.

Moonglow and Picnic. That’s what Jean had sung during that first snowstorm when they thought they might not make it back to Woodstock. She had been embarrassed by singing the words to him. Silly girl! Foolish words to a romantic song didn’t bother him. Only starry eyed romantics would be affected by soaring musical notes! His feet were too much on the ground for that!

Cramer glanced at his companion. Jean Harnett dozed lightly on the seat beside him. Funny, he thought, he was going to miss these Wednesday night meetings. And part of the reason was that he’d attended them with Jean.

Cramer smiled. He liked her very much and was happy she had fought so hard to make them friends. He felt comfortable with her, and he didn’t with most people. And, somehow, Cramer knew he could find a way of talking Jean into returning in the fall. It would be better for Jean, the school, and all concerned. Woodstock and Jean Harnett were such a good fit.

As Cramer entered the city limits of Woodstock, he flicked to another radio station where the lovely chords of “Moon River” were fading away into the outer reaches of sound. Cramer smiled as he heard the disc jockey say, “And, now, folks, here’s another song about that elusive old moon that refused to make an appearance tonight.” The strains of “Moonglow and Picnic Theme” started as an amazed Cramer shook his head and turned the Ford onto Jean’s street. Twice in a row? Was somebody trying to tell him something with that song?

Cramer pulled off the street and cut the motor in the driveway. All was silence around them. It was if the rest of the world had gone away, and they were the only ones in it.

“It must have been Moonglow that sent me straight to you,” sang the radio.

A glance at Jean showed she still slept. She looked so peaceful and utterly feminine lying there, so very soft. He felt mellow and protective and very tender toward her.

“Jean--”

“On a picnic morning--”

Jean stirred, moved her head slightly, but slept on.

“I looked at you, and somehow--”

Cramer reached for her shoulder to shake her awake, but his hand suddenly stopped as the meaning of the words flooded over him.

“--I knew!”

The crescendo broke and the next verse started.

This is ridiculous, he thought. It was just a song, just a series of notes joined together meant to play on a man’s emotions and neglect his intelligence, and yet--

At that moment, Jean awoke. She simply opened her eyes and looked directly at him. In the light from the dash, she saw Cramer leaning over her, reaching for her, his eyes troubled, but mellow. As if in a dream, she returned his steady gaze.

“In the last light of evening--”

His hand settled on her shoulder.

‘I held you in my arms.”

He gathered her close and kissed her while the violins took a solo.

“Now when days grow stormy--”

Cramer pushed Jean away.

Jean gasped through her opened mouth.

Cramer refused to look at her. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to do that. It must have been the night or the music or the circumstances. I don‘t know what. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m deeply sorry. Please accept my deepest apologies.”

Jean blinked. “Sorry? You‘re sorry?!” 

“Yes, but you should understand--“

She reached backwards for the door handle and jumped from the car. “Sorry?!” she shot back at him again. She slammed the door hard and ran up the sidewalk.

Cramer blinked when she slammed her apartment door shut, too.

“--Picnic time, with you,” sang the crooner.

The song ended and Cramer flicked off the radio. Right now, he wasn’t in the mood for any more music.

Boy, was she ever mad at him for kissing her! She’d probably never speak to him again, and that meant he’d probably blown the chance that he could talk her into staying at Woodstock for another year. Whatever had come over him to make him do such a foolish thing? He’d never lost his head like that before. Why with Miss Harnett?

Cramer started the car motor. Perhaps it was the night and the music, after all.

But all the way home and for a long time after he went to bed, the music of Moonglow and Picnic haunted him, as did the lips that had softly conformed to his.

 

To think that he had apologized! Jean slammed her closet door shut. She was angrier with him than she could remember ever being mad at anyone. And it wasn’t because he’d kissed her, but because he’d APOLOGIZED!

Wasn’t she worth kissing?!

She swatted at angry tears as she threw articles into drawers. Darn! She was NOT going to cry!

Thank goodness Mrs. D. didn’t awaken easily. Jean didn’t want to explain, explain why, WHY he had treated her that way. No, she wanted HIM to explain why, WHY--

She threw her head back, stared hard at the ceiling, but could not stop the burning sting in her eyes. Finally, she gave up, threw herself into a chair, and had a good, old-fashioned crying jag.

How would she ever face him at school?

She needn’t have worried. Cramer managed to avoid her. Whenever they were thrown together, he scurried away. At first it was almost amusing, then it got infuriating. Then Jean decided to join his game, too, for a game it was. An evil, sadistic, sad game. And between the two of them, they managed to avoid each other very nicely.

 

“What’s going on with you and Von Cramer? You two act distant toward each other. There’s a distinct chill in the air when you’re together. And don’t try to tell me that I’m imagining it.”

“You aren’t, Craig. We’ve finished the last of the weekly educational meetings, and I guess we’ve had enough of each other’s company to last us for awhile. Now I’m anxious for school to be over so I can move on to other things.”

“You, and me, both. I’m getting married in a little over a month.”

“Oh, you!” She punched him in the arm and gave him the first genuine smile he’d seen for awhile.

 

The office was vacant when Jean popped in to check her mailbox. Not even the secretary was around.

Jean was shuffling through her mail when the outer door opened. She turned with a smile on her face and felt it freeze when she recognized Robert Cramer.

He seemed confused when he saw her and almost backed out, then changed his mind and stepped inside. The door shut, leaving them alone in a crowded building.

Jean almost panicked.

“I wanted to remind you about the schedule changes while I’m gone on the Senior trip to Chicago, Miss, ah, ah--” he said as he fumbled at a mailbox that wasn’t his.

Jean decided not to help him with her name. If he hadn’t learned it by now, he never would.

“I’m to take your study hall, right?”

“Yes, ah--” His sifting eyes settled on her face for a moment, then swiftly looked away. “I do appreciate--”

The outer door opened, admitting the secretary and noise from the hallway.

“Sorry I’ve been gone! Did either of you need anything that I can get for you?”

“No, thank you, Diane,” Jean said warmly while Cramer mumbled at her side. She turned with iciness in her voice and cut him off. “I’ll see to that, Mr. Cramer. You needn’t worry.” She brushed past him before he could answer.

Diane’s eyes followed Jean. There was a stunned look on her face.

 

That afternoon, several girls arrived early to fifth period English, seated themselves, and eagerly began talking about the Junior-Senior banquet and prom. Jean smiled as she listened and remembered other banquets and proms when she had been a student.

Craig had invited Brenna to the prom, and she would change clothes at Jean’s apartment. Thank heavens the rose formal from her sorority days was ready to be worn and that Jean would be picked up that evening by--

By whom?!

Jean stared in horror at the back chalkboard. Good gosh, she had no date! Whatever was she to do?!

Why, she’d go stag and pretend she was enjoying herself, that’s what she’d do!

 

“Sounds like we’ll have decent weather for prom,” Craig said between bites of beanie-wienie in the school cafeteria. “The forecast calls for no rain. That‘ll be a change from last year.”

“Good weather will only make the evening more perfect. I’m so glad that Brenna will be here.”

Craig gave Jean a mischievous look. “Yeah. She’s been looking forward to meeting some of the people she’s heard about. She thinks we exaggerate about them.”

Jean grinned. “Boy, will she be surprised when she finds out we weren’t!”

“When do you expect her?”

“She should get to my apartment around five. That’ll give her plenty of time to change. I won’t be so lucky.”

“Why not?”

“I’m getting my hair done at Fredericksburg after school that afternoon.”

“And you intend to be able to sit down at the banquet by six-thirty? You’re pushing it a little, aren’t you?”

She nodded her head. “I know. Tight scheduling.”

Craig frowned at his forkful of beanie-wienie. “One thing I won’t miss next year is this food.”

Jean arched an eyebrow. “Wherever you go, you’re bound to come across similar food. Don’t you know that schools pass around these time-proven recipes?”

“You mean, time-proven to revolt even the most cast-iron stomach?” Sighing, he shoveled in more food.

Jean grinned, then the smile slowly faded. Next year she wouldn’t be sharing a cafeteria table with Craig. Next year she wouldn’t see or Brenna very much. She sighed. Next year might not be so wonderful, after all.

 

“What a predictably romantic viewpoint, Miss Harnett.”

“It’ll be prom night, Mr. Cramer. Magic and romance are both a part of the evening. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

They glared at each other while Rose Paget stood by, startled by the intensity of their emotions. She and Jean had been sharing an innocent discussion about the prom when Cramer had interrupted them with his usual Bah! Humbug! views.

“Music appeals to our baser instincts,” he snarled.

“But it also lets us express things that we’re too inarticulate to say,” Jean countered. “Songs can have meanings that only two people can recognize. Ballads remind us of a precious time in people’s lives, the time of falling in love.”

Cramer bit his lips together in disgust. “I can see that I’ll find no logical reasoning here,” he muttered and charged down the hallway.

“Goodness!” Rose said. “What’s his problem?”

“He must not believe in romance,” Jean mumbled as she watched Cramer disappear into a mass of students.

“Lacey was that way for awhile.” Rose smiled at the small diamond twinkling on her left ring finger. “Then I changed the way he thought about that subject. Now he thinks that our engagement was his idea.” She winked at Jean. “Spring works wonders in the worst of them.”

Jean couldn’t quite agree with Rose. She knew Cramer and his stubbornness too well.

 

“Mrs. D! Mrs. D!” Jean burst into her apartment and began tearing at the clothes she was wearing.

“Good heavens, child! What’s wrong?” Mrs. D. demanded as she flew into Jean’s bedroom, then stopped short when she saw Jean‘s frantic efforts to disrobe herself.

“Oh, I had to go clear to Fredericksburg after school to get my hair fixed!” She shot her rose formal over her head, being careful not to muss her towering, upswept hairdo.

“Your hair looks lovely, Dear.”

“Thanks, but I’m late to the prom! Zip me up, will you? Has Brenna been here?”

“Yes, and Mr. Martin picked her up about twenty minutes ago.”

“O-h-h-h!”

“Want me to pin your flowers on?” Mrs. D. asked as Jean tore open the refrigerator door and grabbed her corsage. “Oh, what lovely pink roses.”

“No, thanks. No time! I’ll do it down at school.” She flung herself out the door and raced for her car.

“Have fun, dear,” Mrs. D. called after her, but Jean never heard.

 

Jean jerked her car to a stop and dashed into the gym. Students were already filing to their places at decorated tables, and the faculty stood waiting to seat themselves.

“Well, here you are at last!”

“Hi, Brenna.” She shot a look at Brenna’s tiers of cascading mint green chiffon. “Love your dress! Wish I could wear something that frothy.” She turned in a half circle as she struggled with her flowers.

“Want me to pin those roses on you?” Brenna offered.

“Would you?”

“There you go,” Brenna said as she straightened the pink corsage below Jean‘s left shoulder.

“Thanks. Hey, that’s a pretty orchid, Brenna.”

“My fiance spoils me.”

Jean leaned around Brenna. “I’m impressed, Martin.”

“The lady at the flower shop said it was an Ice Green Orchid.“

“Well, it’s really pretty,“ Jean said, as she gave her body a final twist to adjust herself to her dress.

“Guess I have to splurge on her once in awhile.” Craig smiled down at Brenna. “But she’s worth it.”

“Oh, you,” Brenna chided him and squeezed his arm.

“I’m glad you’re here, Brenna. I better go find my place. See you two later.”

Jean Harnett sat at a tale with giggly junior Dee Ann Larkin and her date from Fredericksburg, blonde senior Bob Weiss who grieved as he watched Laura Potter (his ex-girlfriend) with Charles Doane at a far table, senior Bruce Lawrence who ate all of the relish plate, and a tittering Martha Clapsattle. The commerce teacher wore a ten-year-old gray lace dress, but that didn’t stop her fun as she twittered to Jean and the students.

For dinner, there was a shrimp cocktail, baked ham, twice baked potatoes, peas, rolls, coffee, and strawberry shortcake. The mothers of the junior students had prepared the meal, and Jean thought they had done a superb job. The only thing she regretted were the peas, because it isn’t very elegant to be all dressed up and have to chase peas all over a slippery china plate.

The chatter of the students and the general good feeling in the gym made Jean feel comfortable, and she forgot she was unescorted until Cramer stood to introduce the program. He was dateless, too. Why hadn’t she considered him when she was searching for a date? Then she remembered the anger that had been between them since that kiss, and she knew he would never have brought her to the dance.

Skinny Wilson gave the welcome and Mary Kay Ellis responded for the seniors. A junior girls’ sextet sang “You’ll Never Walk Alone” and “May You Always.” Jean noticed that Bob Weiss had lost interest in Laura and that Bruce Lawrence was suddenly full. At other tables, senior girls openly sniffed and several boys wiped away tears. In a few short weeks they would out of this school forever and facing Life for real.

Then the lights brightened. Coughing, low conversation, and chairs scraping were heard over the gym as the diners got to their feet. Everyone filed slowly into the lower halls to wait until the floor could be cleared for dancing. Gay spirits had returned with the lights, and Jean stood to one side watching students in their best clothes laughing and talking. Several students stopped to comment on how nice Jean looked, and she returned the compliments. How gracious everyone was, and they were using their best manners!

Craig and Brenna accompanied by Zoe and Brian joined Jean as she stood by herself.

“Hi, gang.”

“I thought you weren’t going to make it in time, Jean.”

“That makes two of us, Brian.”

“Did Gail do your hair, Jean?” Zoe looked impeccable in a gold sheath.

“She sure did, Zoe. I really appreciated her squeezing me into her tight schedule. Oh, have you two met my sister Brenna?”

Zoe smiled. “Yes, we did. Before the banquet. We had plenty of time to chat.”

The other four laughed with good nature at Jean’s expense, and she smiled back. Their gentle teasing did not bother her, but she suddenly realized that they pitied their dateless friend and were going to keep her company. She mustn’t allow them to sacrifice their evening for her!

Just as the guests began to drift back to the gym, Jean excused herself. “I must see about something. You guys go ahead.”

Jean stood in the girls’ restroom over twenty minutes after the music started. This was going to be a very long, very trying evening, she decided. Back at the gym, she found a chair beside Craig and Brenna.

“See, Brenna?” Craig said. “A teacher’s work is never done.”

Jean leaned around Craig. “Did the kids at your table tease Craig about you?”

“I thought they’d never stop,” Brenna answered. “We enjoyed every minute of it. I’ve been trying to recognize faculty by Craig’s description. I’d say that statuesque gal with the piled-up black hair is that Home Economics teacher Craig says is so pretty.”

“That’s right. And who’s that fancy dude with her?”

“Couldn’t be anybody but Lacey whatever. It’s a funny name for a man, but it certainly fits him.”

“How about our dear Miss Clapsattle?”

“Oh, she has to be that hummingbird at your table. And, oh, yes, the principal was fairly easy to guess, too. I recognized him right off when he presented the program.”

“He’s a stereotype, all right.”

“But I don’t see how he can be as diabolical as you and Craig claim.”

“You don’t know him like we do,” Jean answered.

“Why doesn’t he have a date?”

“He probably wouldn’t lower himself to ask a common mortal,” Craig said. “Besides, I doubt if he can dance.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Brenna marveled. “A grown man, and he can’t dance.”

“It’s very likely, Brenna. Even if he could, I doubt if he would honor any mortal girl by dancing with her. Speaking of dancing, Jean, you haven’t danced with me yet tonight. Will you?”

“Sure will, Craig,” she said gamely, silently blessing him and kicking herself for making Craig ask her.

It had been a mistake for Jean to return to the dance. Craig was dancing with her instead of being with Brenna. She must correct that.

When they returned to their chairs, Jean excused herself. “There’s something I need in the English room. I may be awhile.” 

Craig and Brenna gave her puzzled looks, but didn’t try to stop her. Besides, she had made too fast of an escape to be halted.

At the door, she looked back and saw that they were dancing together.

Once in the English room, she flicked on the lights, plunked herself behind the desk, and began grading a stack of themes. ‘How I Will Spend My Summer Vacation.’ She began working her way through the papers.

At last, Jean laid down her red pencil and rubbed her neck. Was she really interested in the plans of immature Freshmen? She glanced at her watch. Only an hour had passed, and the music still blared from the gymnasium.

 

Sighing, she picked up another theme and began reading.

“Oh, here you are.”

Jean jumped and then steeled herself for the encounter with Robert Cramer.

“I know you aren’t that enthusiastic to grade papers, Miss Harnett.”

“Maybe it’s something I have to do, Mr. Cramer.”

“Nor are you that dedicated. There’s a prom going on and your presence is requested to attend. Won’t you join us?”

She sighed and shoved the themes aside. “All right.” 

She frowned as they walked down the hall, and he saw it.

“I know that it’s no fun to sit by yourself in a roomful of couples, Miss Harnett, but people were beginning to wonder where you’d gone.”

“Maybe I’ve borrowed a page from your book, Mr. Cramer, and have decided to become mysterious,” she said, still annoyed that he had fetched her. “After all, the more secretive a person is, the more the stories circulate. But I don’t need to tell you that. You already know that there’s great stories out about you.”

“What stories? There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Miss Harnett, but I’m surprised you get your information from gossip.” 

Ouch! Oh, he was going to be bitchy and prissy, was he?

He held the gym door open for her. “You still haven’t told me what stories are circulating about me.” There was no humor in that wide smile or those arched eyebrows. “Are you going to leave me in suspense?”

“No, I’m just going to leave you,” she snipped back in disdain. “Thanks for escorting me back to the dance.” With that, she walked away.

Jean found a chair beside Craig and Brenna.

“Well, what was that all about?” Craig asked. “What were you doing that the principal disapproved of?”

“Oh, I guess I can’t even go to my classroom without permission.”

“I think you two are terrible to talk about him that way!” Brenna protested. “It’s not nice.”

“But true.” Craig straightened. “Oh, boy! Brace yourselves, ladies,” he warned. “Cramer’s headed this way. Now for some boring talk.”

“Craig!” Brenna poked him in the ribs. “He’ll hear you!”

“Good evening,” Cramer greeted stiffly. “Mr. Martin, I believe I haven’t been introduced to your date.”

“Well, I can sure take care of that! Brenna, this is our principal, Robert Cramer. Mr. Cramer, may I introduce my fiance, Miss Brenna Harnett.”

Cramer took Brenna’s hand and bowed toward her. “I’m pleased you could attend our banquet, Miss Harnett.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here, Mr. Cramer. I’m enjoying every moment. The decorations are lovely and the students and teachers have been very friendly to me.”

“You’ll find our student body and faculty are very courteous, Miss Harnett. And they are as curious as I am.”

“Oh?” Brenna asked, tilting her head the same way that Jean did. “Why’s that?”

“Well, you’re Mr. Martin’s fiancee and our Miss Harnett’s sister. A sister whose existence, I might add, I was not aware of until rather recently.”

His voice sounded overly controlled to Jean. She wasn’t imagining his stiffness. Cramer was angry, very angry.

“Really?” Brenna answered in the sugar-coated voice she used when confronted with hostility. “I hope it was a nice surprise to you.”

“Better than you could imagine, Miss Harnett. And the students will be relieved that one of their favorite teachers will be marrying such a personable young lady.”

“I’m sure that the major reason is that they want all the best for Craig, Mr. Cramer.”

“Of course. Nice that you could attend.” He turned to Jean and the anger in his voice deepened. “We could have used your talents on the track field this spring, Miss Harnett. All I could do at the door was follow, and I came in a poor second.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. She tried to hide herself. Belittling her in front of Craig and Brenna was outrageous! Nervously, she looked at them for help. But, no, she couldn’t involve them. She turned away so they couldn’t see her frustration, and her eyes confronted an outstretched hand.

“Will you give me the honor?” Robert Cramer demanded in barely civil tones.

Without looking into his face, Jean accepted the proffered hand, and Cramer guided her onto the dance floor. His arms closed around her as the music of “Stranger on the Shore” surrounded them. Jean automatically followed as he skillfully led her through the dance steps.

“You left too quickly,” Cramer said stiffly. “I was trying to work up the courage to ask you to dance.”

“I didn’t know you could dance,” she mumbled.

“I told you that there was a lot you didn’t know about me,” he snapped.

“But you don’t give people a chance to learn any differently.”

“I thought maybe you had, especially in the last few weeks.” He frowned. “Maybe that’s the trouble. Maybe you know me too well and don’t like what you see.” His frown deepened. “You’ll find that I’m very persistent.” He felt her tense and knew she was about to push out of his arms. “Even if you don’t like me anymore, we will finish this dance.”

She looked up at him in confusion. “But I don’t dislike you--”

He pursed his lips. “Your actions say otherwise. Even if you think I’m repulsive, you could at least act a little more civil to me.”

At that moment, the song ended and couples broke apart. Some wandered back to their chairs, and the din of conversation was heard around the gymnasium. Cramer released Jean, but they didn’t leave the floor. They were too deep in conversation.

“Me?! I’ve tried to be your friend, Mr. Cramer. Sometimes that’s been a little difficult to do.”

“I appreciate the effort, Miss Harnett. I realize what a sacrifice you must be making.”

“Now, wait a minute! Don’t twist my words!”

“Now, now, don’t lose your temper.”

“And don’t correct me!” She saw a passing couple give her an odd look and she quieted. “I’m no child,” she hissed at him.

“Then stop trying to prove otherwise. We assumed when you came here that you were mature, but you’ve consistently tried this year to disprove that theory.”

Jean’s face flamed and she stamped her foot. “Well, I never!”

The band began playing again, and Jean’s anger prevented her from recognizing the “Moonglow and Picnic Theme.” Then, like a foolish adolescent, her heart quickened when she did. She tensed to flee again, but Cramer grabbed her hand. To struggle with him would cause a scene.

“I believe this is our dance,” Cramer said firmly. And to the startled look on her face, he said, “The band takes requests.”

Once again, his arms closed around her and she numbly followed his lead. She had no control over her powerless body. If he released her, she feared she would fall down or simply float away.

“Dear one, hold me fast,” crooned the band singer.

Cramer’s arm was like an iron bar across her back, and he mistook her confusion for reluctance. “Straighten up,” he hissed. “Stop acting like you’re going to faint. Dancing with me can’t be that much of a trial.”

Gradually, Jean’s numbness melted into an acute awareness of his arms. How thankful she was that the gymnasium was semi-dark. Nobody could see her confused face or guess how her heart thudded.

“Dear Lord, please let this last,” crooned the boyishly handsome singer with the band. “--that moon glow sent me you.’ He stepped away from the microphone, and the band swung into the “Picnic” theme.

With the familiar strains surrounding her, she gained the courage to look at Cramer. There was no sympathy for her on his face, only a deep anger. And he should be losing himself in the music as she was. She must make him listen. She must! And that need gave her strength.

“Thank you, for the song,” she murmured.

His eyes snapped with blue fire. “You’re a hopeless romantic, Miss Harnett! Don’t you know that dancing is simply a way for men to get their arms around women?! That’s all that the male students have on their minds here tonight.”

“Oh, you’re wrong. They are captivated by the spell of the music as much as the girls are. That’s what music is for, to make us think that the world is better than it is. And there’s nothing wrong in being charmed by music, if only for a little while. Oh, Bob, we all need a little music and romance in our lives. Even you.”

“Stop it! I don’t need adopting. I have a mother!”

She felt tears pop into her eyes. “Why are you so cruel to me this evening? Oh, please listen to the words of the song. They are so beautiful.”

“It’s just a song,” he snapped. “That’s what I want you to realize. That’s why I requested it. To show you that it means nothing. To show you that we can dance to it without it meaning anything special. You live in a very foolish world, Miss Harnett. You need to become more practical.”

“You were listening to the words the other night in your car.”

“That was a mistake. You might have been angry with me for what I did, but I was angrier with myself. I don’t know how something like that could’ve happened.”

“Oh, don’t you?! Thanks for the compliment! I’m a normal young woman, Mr. Cramer. I like to think that I’m appealing to men.”

“Oh, that you are, Miss Harnett.” His voice had softened. “You can be very appealing, with your smile, and your enthusiasm--” 

She could feel his eyes going over her face, and she wanted to get lost in his search. She looked up hopefully.

“--and your shining eyes,” he murmured, his sarcasm replaced with wonder. “--and your infectious laughter.” He almost allowed himself a little smile, then he snapped himself back into the present. “Maybe someday you can forgive me for taking liberties.”

She brought herself back, too. “And maybe someday you can forgive me for tempting you,” she said stiffly.

He frowned and his eyes flashed in anger. “I don’t get tempted, Miss Harnett. And I want you to understand that this is just a song!”

He whirled her around twice very fast and very angrily, and Jean felt her heart whirl, too.

So this was a lesson, was it? But he was really punishing her, and she didn’t understand why. He didn’t want to hear the words to the song or acknowledge their meaning. All he wanted was to prove his point.

“Why are you so angry with me? What did I do that was so wrong?”

“You’re only part of it. It’s this whole illogical situation. It’s designed to make fools out of all of us.”

She wanted to explain that the situation had nothing to do with logic, that music reached back into a primitive past before civilization had existed. But those were ideas that, like music, couldn’t be explained, just accepted. Besides, he was a scientist. He’d never understand.

“You’re frowning, Miss Harnett. Is it really sure a chore to have to dance with me? Am I really that repulsive?”

“Oh, no!” Then she said what was in her heart, the thing that had made her stay instead of fleeing from his arms: “You’re wonderful.”

His arm tightened and he looked away, but not before she saw his stern expression. Again, she’d said the wrong thing.

“At least you’re not stepping all over my feet,” she mumbled. Suddenly, she felt so hurt by his coldness that she knew she was going to cry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”

When he saw tears sparkling in her eyes, his anger changed into deep concern. “Don’t,” he said in a warm rush of heartfelt feeling. “I didn’t intend to hurt you. Don’t cry. I’m sorry, Jean. I’m so sorry. You‘re such a wonderful person.”

And the arms that had held her so harshly, relaxed, and she settled into their comforting protection.

The young singer approached the mike again.

“On a picnic morning, without a warning--”

Jean clung, following blindly. The gym disappeared, the other dancers vanished. The whole world consisted of this music and his arms. She closed her eyes, lay her cheek against his shoulder, and clung to him.

“On a day for singing, my heart went winging; a picnic role was our rendezvous.”

Dancing like this, with him to this song, this could be eternity.

She felt so protected in his cradling arms. And then she felt something else, an awareness of him, a new, different awareness that she hoped he was feeling, too.

She opened her eyes and found him watching her in a philosophical, detached way. And she knew he was finally listening to the words of the song.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered and wondered if she’d spoken aloud. She felt his arm around her waist tighten, then relax; and she knew that he’d heard her.

“Me, too,” he whispered back.

The music was weaving its magic on both of them, and the whole world consisted of only this song and them.

“In the last light of evening, I held you in my arms.”

Eyes riveted to his nearing face, she held her breath.

He was going to kiss her again, and this time without apology.

Jean waited, and she smiled tenderly up at him as they swayed, hardly moving.

“Oh, excuse us,” apologized a young couple who bumped into them.

Suddenly, the other dancers reappeared, and Cramer and Jean realized that they were not alone. They were on a dance floor in a gymnasium with a bunch of high school kids playing dress up. Cramer averted his face and became indifferent to her. Now he was simply the principal dancing with the English teacher.

Jean felt his shoulder under her left hand and his fingers encasing her right hand. Her eyes fell on his dark lapel where a red carnation was attached at a crazy angle. How could such a fastidious person allow such a disheveled appearance for himself? And how had that carnation gotten in that shape?

When the music ended, Cramer escorted her back to her chair. Not until she glanced down at her own roses did she see how crushed they were. Only then did she realize that she and Cramer must have been dancing very closely.

“Thank you,” Cramer said woodenly and moved away.

“Well, do you fell immortal?” Craig asked and laughed.

“No,” she lisped as she sat rigidly in her chair. “Very mortal.”

Craig grinned, but Brenna stared intently at Jean. What could Brenna’s all-knowing eyes see? She didn’t even want to speculate about Brenna’s thoughts.

Unable to bear her sister’s scrutiny any longer, Jean turned her attention to the dance floor and studied the dancers whirling before her. But all that she was aware of was the whirling of a dancing couple who were no longer on the floor.


	9. May

“Popcorn?” Brian asked as he offered the open box to Jean as they sat together in the darkened movie theater watching Haley Mills making an idiot of James MacArthur. 

Seniors and Juniors and their teachers sat scattered throughout the old movie theater on Woodstock’s Main Street. This was just another phase of the all night prom and party until dawn. First had come the banquet and the dancing. Now the special showing of the movie, ‘The Glass Bottom Boat.’ When it finished, they would all go back to the schoolhouse to play games and doze until daylight when the Junior mothers would serve breakfast. Then, hopefully, all would go home to bed. 

“Thanks.” Jean dug into the warm, buttery corn, then leaned toward Brian. “I can’t believe I can actually eat anything after that big banquet.”

“That’s because you’re still young,” Brian whispered into her ear. “Martha Clapsattle probably won’t eat for a week.”

“She pecked at her food the way it was. The richness probably bothered her, besides the quantity.”

Jean settled back and watched the movie screen for a few minutes and laughed at the proper time. Then the hero ducked a kiss from the heroine, and Jean was painfully reminded of the prom.

She frowned. She hadn’t seen Cramer since they had danced, so maybe he was avoiding her. Good. She didn’t particularly want to see him, either. She was somewhat out of sorts because he’d walked away from her. Perhaps he’d been embarrassed by what had nearly happened to them on the dance floor. Jean chose to believe, however, that he’d been shaken by the experience. He’d set out to teach her a lesson, and his plan had been sabotaged by his own emotions. Maybe the magic of springtime had finally gotten to him.

Or perhaps it hadn’t. Jean sighed. Her romantic nature was running amuck again. Cramer had simply left because she was too hopeless to teach, he had probably decided. But, oh, how she wished that she was right! He was just too smug for his own good.

She remembered that she’d had similar thoughts at the prom. Unaware that she was staring blankly at the prom dancers, she’d been rescued by Brian and Zoe and drawn back to what was actually happening in front of her.

“Here you are!” Zoe exclaimed as she piled down beside Jean. “Great prom, isn’t it?”  
“Huh? Oh, yes, it is. I saw you guys dancing earlier.”

“That’s why we’re here. Brian wants to dance with you.”

Jean tilted her head and grinned. “Are you his social director now?”

Brian shrugged. “What can I say? My wife does my talking for me. I can only look at another woman with her permission, and I guess I‘ve got her permission to do that now. And may I say, Miss Harnett, that you are looking ravishing tonight? Your face is positively glowing.”

Zoe drew back her elbow. And for one blazing moment, Jean thought Zoe would actually dig it into Brian’s ribs the way she used to do. Then Zoe grinned at him, and Brian melted.

“And I can say all that with her permission, of course,” he quipped.

This time, Zoe’s elbow did connect with Brian’s ribs, but not too hard. He grabbed the offending elbow and gently squeezed it a couple of times. Then he ran his fingers up and down her naked arm several times while soft smiles went across their faces. They both had the look of warm pudding in their eyes. For them, for the moment, no one else existed. They were alone in a world of their own making. Looking at them, anyone could see what love looked like.

Jean felt like bawling. 

Brian finally looked at Jean again. “How about it, Jean? Dance with me?”

“I’d love to, Brian. And it’s a slow number, too.”

“Just my specialty,” he said as he gallantly offered her his arm. “I won’t have to jump around like a monkey with a bad case of fleas chewing on its hide. We can leave that for the kids to do. They’re built for that kind of activity.”

Jean smiled wistfully as she turned to him and held up her hands. “That sounds like the old Brian talking.”

“Sometimes he slips out,” he said as he pulled his arms around Jean. “I try to try to control him, though.”

“Sometimes I miss him,” she said as they mingled seamlessly with the other dancers on the floor.

“I don’t need him anymore. I don’t need to be defensive now. The love of a good woman does that for a guy. She gives me the courage to be myself.”

“You two seem awfully happy,” Jean noted as they danced.

“We are. And we owe it all to you, Madame Cupid. That’s why we hate to see you so sad.”

“So you rescued me.”

“You’re not that much of a charity case. I really wanted to dance with you. You are my friend, you know.” 

“And you’re mine. And a good one, to boot.”

“We haven‘t had a chance to talk much lately, just you and I.”

“I know. The end of the school year has so many activities, doesn’t it?”

“That would explain a look of exhaustion. But you’re sad, girl, downright sad.”

“I know. Romantic me, I suppose. The sadness? End of school. Changes. You and Zoe going away. Craig and Brenna getting married and going,” she said with a shrug, “who knows where?” She frowned, then looked up at him with a sad grin. “So you’ll be a pal and overlook my melancholy mood, all right?” She frowned again. “I should be a better actress than that, shouldn’t I? Okay, what I said before is all true. Plus,“ she said with a deep breath, “I don’t have a date. So what?” She looked aside. “I haven’t been dateless since junior high. But I shouldn’t blame anybody else but myself for that. I could at least act like I’m having a good time, though, for other people’s sake.”

“An actress, you ain’t. You’re about as devious as Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. I can see through you as easily as I can see through clear water. And I like you like that. You’re comfortable to be around.”

Jean tilted her head. “What’s with the compliments? You’re turning my head, mister. A little late with that sort of thing, isn‘t it?”

“I’ve got a good reason. I want you to be my date at the movie later.”

Jean laughed. She couldn’t help it. Then she looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Fine with me, but won’t your wife catch on? Don‘t look now, but there‘s a gal sitting over there with your wedding ring on her finger.”

“She’s tired. Wants to turn in early.” He tried to look wicked but it didn’t quite happen. He simply looked mellow. “But she’s broad-minded. She doesn’t want to stop me from having fun.”

The almost-joke quickly soured for Jean, and her smile faded into a frown. She knew that Brian wasn’t in a joking mood, either.

“Isn’t Zoe feeling well?”

“Never better. Just tired.”

“Then you better--”

“I’d stay with her if she was really ill.”

And Jean suddenly realized he’d do just that, too. “You’re one in a million, you old curmudgeon. I shouldn’t have let you gotten away.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. We might’ve been great together. And now we’ll never know. Will we?”

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Brian.”

He shrugged. “You were intended for someone else, and you were wise enough to wait.”

“Was I? Apparently, I’m still being wise. I’m sure dateless tonight.”

“Are you?” he asked with his version of a broad smile. “You’ve got an offer for a movie date.”

“Yes, I do, don’t I?” she asked with her smile, which really was broad. It lit up their corner of the gym. “And I’m taking you up on that offer, mister.”

“Great!” he said as the music stopped and he took her arm to lead her back to where Zoe sat smiling at them.

“Hear that, woman?” he said to Zoe. “Jean and I are on for later. Now you don’t have to worry about me going stag and being bored.”

“Listen to him, Jean,” Zoe said as the two dancers sat on either side of her. “You’d think he never worried about me. Why, he’s worse than a fussy old hen. He spoils me rotten.”

“I’ll take you rotten,” Brian said. “It makes loving you more decadent.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “And more delicious.”

Zoe smiled softly and a red glow spread over her face, making her beautiful. “Listen to him now. See what I mean?”

“I think you’re lucky,” Jean said wistfully to Zoe. She glanced at Brian who was seeing no one else in the gym except Zoe. “I think you’re both lucky.”

Zoe beamed at Jean, then turned to Brian and took his hand. Jean nearly had to look aside. Their happiness hurt her that much.

 

At midnight the prom ended and the dancers dispersed to change clothes for the next part of the evening’s activities.

“See you at the movies, Jean,” Brian called with a wave as he and Zoe passed Jean’s car.

“Meet you there, Brian. Good night, Zoe.”

“See you at school Monday,” Zoe called. “Nice meeting you, Brenna!”

“You, too!” Brenna answered. She frowned at Jean over the top of the car as Jean unlocked the door. “Isn’t that guy married to that woman?”

Jean flashed her a smile. “Yeah, but Zoe’s skipping the movie. She’s tired.”

Brenna slid into the car. “She must be awfully trusting then.”

“Of Brian and me? Yeah, she can trust us. Besides, we’ll be in a theater with a bunch of kids. We’ll be properly chaperoned.”

“They seemed like good people. Most of the faculty did, too, and the students were nice.” Brenna glanced out the window as they drove down the street. “I like this little town. Everybody made me feel right at home.”

“Me, too. Right from the start.”

Brenna glanced at Jean. “Won’t you miss them when you leave?”

The question stabbed Jean in the heart. “Yes, I’m afraid I will.”

“You’ll find another town you’ll like as well, I expect.”

“I’m sure I will. But it’ll never replace Woodstock. Just as no place will ever replace Canton.” She turned into her driveway. “Well, here we are, back at the apartment. Time to change out of the fairy tale gear and into slacks and sweatshirts.” She gently opened the front door. “Let’s be careful that we don’t awaken Mrs. D.”

Brenna pulled off her formal and hung it on the special padded hanger that she’d brought with her. “Jean, I’m glad I came to the prom tonight. It made me see you in a whole new light. Now I can actually believe that you really are a school teacher. Everyone was calling you Miss Harnett.”

Jean laughed lightly as she hung up her formal. “What did you think I did when I left Canton on Sundays?”

“Well, logically, I knew that you came here to Woodstock, but it was like you went into a little room of non-existence until the next time you came home.”

“That’s odd,” Jean said as she pulled on her red sweatshirt. “That’s precisely the way I felt about Canton. Woodstock was the only place that had reality about it this school year. Maybe I will be able to adjust to another town. All the new town has to do is become real to me. Then, I‘ll just shut Woodstock up into its proper place as being a part of my past. Sure, that will work. I never thought about it like that before. Thanks. That helps a lot. Maybe I‘ll be able to leave Woodstock, and it‘ll be just a wonderful memory to me.”

“I know you can adjust to that change, Jean. My big sister can do anything she sets her mind to doing. I couldn’t have done what you did last fall when you came to a strange town and started out fresh.”

Jean smiled softly. “You might surprise yourself. And don’t forget, you’ll be doing the very same thing in a few weeks. Your life will be changing forever.”

“But I won’t be by myself. Craig will be with me.”

“I know,” Jean whispered. “And do you know how lucky you are?” she asked in a stronger, joking voice. “You better be good to that boy, or you’ll answer to me!”

Brenna gave her a quick hug. “It won’t be a problem.”

They looked into each others' eyes and realized that all the old companionship and comfortable familiarity of childhood would never be lost between them.

Brenna pulled away. “I hear Craig’s car now. Don’t forget, we’re going shopping with Mother later this morning and we’re having dress fittings this afternoon.”

“I’ll try to be there.”

Brenna paused at the door. “I’ll understand if you don’t make it to the shopping. And Marian Sumner would probably let you try your dress on Sunday afternoon.” She frowned. “I don’t want you traveling if you’re tired.”

“I’ll be careful. And I’ll see you at home.” She glanced outside. “Yes, it is Craig. Are you ready?”

Brenna and Jean jumped in Craig’s car, and they joined the crowd waiting to go into the show house at twelve-thirty. Outside of the superintendent and his wife, none of the older teachers were present. Jean didn’t see Cramer and realized he wasn’t just avoiding her. He just wasn’t there.

“Hey, Jean, I see you made it.”

“I wouldn’t turn you down, Brian. Did you get Zoe all tucked in?”

Brian lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, I did. But you’re not getting any of the details.”

Jean laughed lightly as they headed for the open door.

The theater was a run-down building with broken seats and a moth-eaten velvet curtain. Movies were shown only on ‘date nights’ and on special occasions such as prom. But Woodstock people loved their old theater and attended movies faithfully, although some people were starting to abandon it for television in the comfort of their own homes.

The movie was a frothy teenage love story which Jean had seen two summers before, but she knew it was just the thing to make the hearts of teenagers swell with tender emotions.

Jean watched the movie, became bored, ate popcorn, drank pop, split a stick of gum with Brian, and finally jumped out of her seat and retreated up the aisle. She could feel the gaze of Brian’s puzzled eyes on her back.

Outside, the air was cool and Jean zipped up her nylon shell. Each side of the street was lined with cars, but the street itself was still. She turned her collar up and strolled along the empty street. The mercury-vapor lamps poured milky light over the cars and held them in a charm. Jean was charmed, too, and gazed at the solitude as she walked. Finally, a single tear slid down her face.

How foolishly romantic! What was wrong with her, anyway? She was worse than any of the teenagers watching that syrupy film inside the theater.

She marched herself back to the show house and dropped into her seat.

“Welcome back, princess,” Brian muttered. “Problem?”

“Not now. I just had to adjust my perspective.”

“I thought you’d changed your mind and had forsaken me.”

“I’m here for the duration,” she said as she settled into the seat and forced herself to enjoy the show.

After the movie, Craig drove Jean back to her apartment so she could pick up her car. Craig and Brenna planned to leave for home during the sock hop.

Jean danced a few fast dances with Craig and students, waved Brenna and Craig goodbye at the school house door, and then settled on a pillow with a coke. Jean talked quietly with a couple of wallflower girls about college as they watched the dancing. Looking around, Jean saw that Rose Paget, Lacey Griffith, and Jimmy Adair were the only other teachers still present. Cramer definitely was missing.

Jean glanced at her watch. 4:10 a.m. Nearly an hour and a half before breakfast, and she was so tired. She lay her head against her pillow and slept.

“Jean. Jean. Wake up, Jean. It’s time for breakfast.”

Jean opened her eyes and found Rose Paget smiling at her. Jean sat up. “Breakfast? What? Where?” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Oh, I remember. The sock hop. You should have awakened me, Rose.”

Lacey Griffith grinned as he offered her his hand as a boost up. “We didn’t have the heart to disturb you. You looked so cozy.” Even after Jean was on her feet, he continued to steady her elbow.

Lacey took Rose’s elbow, too. “Let’s eat, ladies.”

They filed into the cafeteria where they collected sticky sweet rolls, orange juice, and strong hot coffee from smiling mothers of the junior students.

The coffee woke her up and she felt alert although Jean knew it was only the caffeine that stimulated her.

“Tell me, Jean, where didn’t Mr. Cramer go?” Rose asked.

“H-m-m?” Jean paused with a mouthful of roll.

“He left right after he danced with you, and he never came back to the prom.”

“Oh?”

“I thought principals were supposed to stay until the cows came home,” Lacey remarked with his trademark grin.

Jean didn’t like the conversation. “I don’t know what the trouble was,” Jean lied, rising. “Excuse me now, won’t you? I’m going to my apartment and get some sleep. See you.”

“Drive carefully,” Lacey called after her.

“Thanks. I will.”

Like a robot, Jean drove through the streets streaked with early morning sunshine. She didn’t know why Cramer had left the prom early. And at this moment, she didn’t really care. Maybe he was angry with the both of them again. After all, he’d almost kissed her while they were dancing.

Jean tumbled into bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

Jean rolled over in bed and stared blankly at the opposite wall. Sunshine poured into the room and hurt her eyes. Groaning, she drew the pillow over her head and turned on her side. Indians were performing a war dance on the prairie of her brain. An aspirin would quiet them, if she only had the energy to reach for the aspirin.

Rising to a sitting position, she yawned and stretched and shook her aching head. In the process, she glanced at the clock.

9:30!

She was late to school!

Halfway across the bedroom, she realized it was Saturday, the day after the prom. That explained her headache. All night parties were not for her.

She washed two aspirins down with tepid water and munched on a sweet roll. A look in the mirror showed her hairdo hadn’t survived the night, and she started to brush new life into her fallen locks.

The fittings! Yee gads and door nails, she’d forgotten! They were probably waiting for her at home and she was stumbling around here with a headache. Grumbling, she pulled on blue stretch pants and a matching shell. A blue and yellow patterned cardigan lay on the chair ready for her to grab as she tore out the door.

Mrs. D. knocked on the door. “I heard you stirring and I thought you’d like this cup of coffee.”

“You’re an angel, Mrs. D.,” Jean said as she gulped the steaming brew. “I have to drive home and I can barely focus my eyes.”

“Oh, dear. You be careful, now.”

“I lead a charmed life, Mrs. D.,” she reassured her as she grabbed her purse and cardigan and headed out the door. “See you Sunday.”

 

Jean arrived home before lunch, found the house empty, flung herself on the couch, and was still asleep there when her father shook her awake.

“Time for lunch, sweetheart.”

“Oh, hi, Daddy,” she said, stretching. “I had a rough night.”

“Brenna said you would be up until dawn.”

“I helped corral kids through a prom, a movie, and a sock hop. Where do they get the energy?”

“Now you know why Mother and I couldn’t keep up with you girls in high school.”

“Is Brenna home?” Jean asked as she slipped into her shoes.

“Yes. She got in early this morning. She and your mother have been shopping. I just picked them up downtown, and we all came home for lunch. They’re fixing it now.”

“Sorry I missed the morning. Brenna was counting on my help.”

“Don’t fret, kitten. We all know that your first responsibility is to your job.”

“Now you sound like Mr. Cramer.”

“Who? Oh, your principal.”

“Yeah. He’s always telling me what to do.”

“Ah, speaking of jobs, kitten, have you decided what you’re doing next year?”

“Well, if it’s up to Mr. Cramer, I’ll be back at Woodstock.”

“Would that be so awful, honey? You’ve been happy at Woodstock, and you’ve made friends there.”

“But most of them are leaving!”

“So you want to leave, too? That’s an excuse, honey, not a reason.”

“I, I don’t really know why I want to leave, Daddy. I like Woodstock and I like the kids, but I just feel restless.”

“But leaving won’t cure that restlessness, Jean,” he said gently.

Jean sensed that Brenna had told him something. But what? What was so obvious to everyone else and yet so impossible for her to see?

“Come on, honey,” Frank Harnett said as he drew his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go eat. Mother is having creamed chicken over toast with carrots on the side.”

My favorite luncheon, Jean thought. Whatever had Brenna said to their parents?!

 

That afternoon Jean saw the long, mint green gown that she would wear as maid of honor reflected in her bedroom mirror, and it fit her perfectly. She spied Brenna’s white chiffon headband and on impulse, adjusted it carefully over her own curls. Jean looked like a bride herself. But she doubted if she’d ever be a bride. She’d dated plenty of men, but somehow she just couldn’t find the right one.

Craig called for Brenna at 7:00, but instead of leaving, they stayed home. The TV was turned off and a Monopoly game started. Jean knew her parents never missed Lawrence Welk and that Craig and Brenna had spoken of a good movie they had wanted to see this weekend. Jean got the uncomfortable feeling she was being pitied, and she didn’t know why. Instead of helping her, they were actually making her feel peculiar by going out of their way to include her.  
At 7: 30 Jean rose and flicked on ABC. “We can listen to Welk and play at the same time.” Then, she watched the clock and started yawning. At last she said, “Think I’ll soak in a hot tub and go to bed early. Maybe you people got a good night’s sleep last night, but I sure didn’t. See you tomorrow.” And she left, well knowing that Craig and Brenna could still make it to the movies.

 

Hours later, Jean awoke with a start. She was fully awake in an instant and felt like she could fight tigers. Brenna wasn’t home yet and the clock read only 11:30. The folks would be asleep so Jean would have to make herself sleepy again without disturbing them.

She wanted music, but not from the radio. Nostalgic, old tunes from high school days were what she wanted to hear.

She put a stack of Elvis Presley hits on the old phonograph and settled in bed with a fashion magazine. Other magazines lay scattered around the bedroom. She would catch up on clothing styles and news out of Hollywood. What a wonderful way to wile away some extra hours!

“Love me tender, love me true, take me to your heart,” Elvis crooned and Jean felt the same thrill as she had during her high school days. Elvis was the best. Forever and ever. Period.

An hour later Jean took the records off the machine. She’d already heard both sides twice. Now, she wanted a change.

She grabbed a stack of assorted records, dumped them on the machine, and jumped back into bed. She’d begun to look through old annuals and was enjoying her glanced back into the past.

Suddenly the “Moonglow and Picnic Theme” filled the room. Jean’s hand hung suspended in air, the old annuals forgotten.

“On a picnic morning without a warning, I looked at you--”

Again, Jean felt his angry arms around her and all the agony and pleasure of dancing with him flooded over her.

“--and somehow I knew.”

Jean felt her cheeks and they were wet. How perfectly silly! It was just a song. Hadn’t he told her so?

“You and I in the sunshine, we strolled the fields and farms--”

At last she realized what she’d been avoiding all day was thinking of him.

“--in the last light of evening, I held you in my arms.”

With an agonized cry, Jean flung herself across the bed, and great, shuddering sobs shook her.

The record ended and, because it was the last on the pile, started playing again. Jean covered her ears. She couldn’t bear to hear the lovely words. They were punishing her as much as he had last night.

Jean jumped out of bed and twisted off the phonograph. She was about to smash the record when she looked up and saw Brenna staring at her. Jean wiped tears from her eyes and forced a smile that felt fake.

“H-have a nice time?”

Brenna cocked her head sideways and studied Jean. “Sure,” she said slowly. “It was a good flick. Just what we figured it would be.” She absently dropped her chiffon scarf on the dresser. “I thought you turned in early.”

Jean began tidying the bed. “Ah, yes. I did. But I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I, ah, started reminiscing.” She shrugged at the annuals and records. “I’ll move this mess out of the way.”

Brenna frowned. “What’s wrong, Jean?”

Jean smiled too brightly. “Nothing. Not a thing.”

“Then why the tears?”

Jean pointed at the mess on the bed. “I was looking at these old annuals and remembering. School days.” She shrugged. “You know.”

Brenna picked up the record that Jean had dropped and glanced at it, then at Jean. “Are you sure nothing else is bothering you?”

Jean couldn’t even meet her gaze.

“You know, Jean, you’re not going to get rid of him by smashing a record.”

Jean’s head shot up. “What do you mean?!”

“You love him, don’t you?”

“W-what?!”

“You’ve fallen for him, and it’s completely knocked you off your moorings.”

“I, I don’t know who you’re talking about!” Jean protested.

“That principal. Cramer. You love him.”

“Oh, it can’t be! It’s impossible!”

“Is it? I saw it last night. I saw the way you looked at him when you danced together. And to this song, too. What is it? Your song?”

“We have no song,” Jean muttered. “We share nothing.”

“I know you better than that. With Dex, it was ‘Love Letters in the Sand.’ With Ron, it was ‘Pretty Woman.’ And now with Cramer, it’s ‘Moonglow and Picnic.’”

The truth engulfed Jean with a thud. She frowned. “Oh, Brenna, isn’t it awful?!”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t believe in love. He’s inhuman.”

“Oh, he can’t be that way. You and Craig exaggerate so.”

“He sure wouldn’t want a little scatterbrain like me. He’d probably think it was something else stupid I’d done.”

“Jean, I’ve never heard you be so unfair to anyone!”

“It’s him! When I fell in love, I thought I’d be happy. But I’m miserable. All I want to do is cry all the time.”

“Well, as long as he feels the same way--”

“But he doesn’t! He kissed me once, a few weeks ago, and then do you know what he did? He apologized! He apologized and, and, and then he walked away! And he’s been acting like I’m some sort of alien life form ever since!”

Brenna looked puzzled. “That is strange behavior.”

“Very! I’m used to guys wooing me, not ignoring me!”

“No wonder you’re upset.”

“That’s why I say he’s not interested. How could I think otherwise?”

“Look, Jean, I’ll admit I don’t know Cramer the way that you do, but I do know about last night. That look you had on your face?”

“Yeah?”

“He had it, too.”

Jean turned away. “You’re wrong. He was angry with me.”

“Not when he held you close, he wasn’t. You couldn’t see his face, but I could. As far as he was concerned, you were the only two in the room.”

“That’s just the way I felt! Oh, Brenna, I wish it could be true, because I do think so much of him.”

“He’ll come around, you’ll see. All he needs is time, and a push. A clever girl like you should be able to give him both.”

“I wish it was all that simple.” Jean glanced at the sister. “You won’t say anything about Cramer, will you?”

“Remember you and Billy? I never said a word until you did. I won’t now about this guy.”

“Thanks.” Jean smiled, but she felt sad.

In love with Cramer. Robert Cramer, the all-American bore. And, yet, that was unfair. He had his nice side, but it was well-hidden, waiting to be brought out by someone who cared enough to help him. Jean cared, and suddenly she was realizing how much she cared. But would he accept her help? Would he let her be a part of his life?

If she was smart, she’d bide her time until the end of school, leave Woodstock, and let this silly crush die. There were plenty of men who did appreciate her, and they could help her forget an ungrateful Robert Cramer.

But Jean had never been very smart when it came to love. And, although the words were bittersweet to her, she loved Robert Cramer. She loved him very much.

 

Jean’s thoughts were still on Robert Cramer the next morning, and Jean had little control over her actions. She set her body on auto pilot and let routine actions guide her. It was amazing how little she had to concentrate until--

“Jean! You seem deep in thought today.”

Jean blinked. “Huh?” She realized she was following her family out of church and that her Aunt Margo had hailed her. Jean had no idea about the subject of the sermon she’d just heard or what songs she’d just sung, but those things were unimportant now. She had a more pressing problem with trying to focus on Margo and what her aunt was saying to her.

“Some problem, Jean? You seemed awfully reflective in church.”

Bless Aunt Margo! She’d given Jean her explanation. “Yes, I did have something that was bothering me. And church is the perfect place to take our problems. Don’t you agree?”

“Well, I-- Of course, it is,” Margo blustered. “It’s just that you should be paying more attention to the minister.”

“I was. I was listening to the minister inside me, the small, still voice that guides me. The minister at the pulpit is merely a tool to that small, still voice. Don’t you agree?”

“Well-- Of course, I do. It’s just that--”

“Oh, here you are, Jean!” Brenna greeted as she slipped her hand around Jean’s and squeezed. “We thought you’d gotten lost.”

“Just visiting with Aunt Margo a moment.”

They both glanced at Margo who still seemed to be sputtering.

“Excuse us, Aunt Margo. I have to steal Jean away now. See you later at the tea that Craig’s aunt is hosting for us this afternoon.”

“Bye, Aunt Margo,” Jean said brightly. “It was nice chatting with you.”

“Ah, goodbye, girls,” Margo said to their retreating figures. “See you this afternoon.” She straightened her shoulders, regrouped her thoughts, and searched the crowd for her next victim, ah, conversation sharer.

“Boy, I thought I was rescuing you,” Brenna said as the sisters hurried toward their parents’ car. “Maybe it was really Aunt Margo who needed my help.”

“She wrangled me, Brenna. I guess I shouldn’t have unsheathed my claws like that.” Jean grinned. “But, oh, it felt good!”

The girls giggled together.

“I would’ve disappointed Mother, though,” Jean continued. “She has tried to teach us tolerance and forbearance. I’m afraid I’m not following her example, though. I’m not cut out to be a martyr.”

“Even Mother brings Aunt Margo to task occasionally about her actions.”

“That’s right. Remember when aunt Margo was berating Sally Carstairs for having to get married? Mother bristled right up and defended her. Sally was never too bright and didn’t understand that she was supposed to say ‘no’ to any guy who tempted her into being naughty. Never mind that she had fun with the guy. Sally admitted that herself. But Mother decided that she needed defending, and defending she got, whether she wanted or needed it.”

“The defender of lost causes, that’s our mother. There’s the folks, Jean. Let’s change the subject” she whispered to her sister. “Did you see that hat that Myra Horton was wearing?” she asked her mother.

“Myra?” Louise asked. “Heavens, yes! Wasn’t it a sight?” She laughed and fell to gossiping with her daughters.

Frank Harnett shook his head, then grinned. He wished he had a dozen more, just like these three, the women in his life. He was a wealthy man, indeed.

 

“Getting ready to leave, Jean?” Frank asked later at home. “Not staying for supper?”

“Supper?! Not after that big dinner at the Morgan House and the treats at the afternoon tea. I couldn’t eat another bite! If I do, it’ll just be some cinnamon toast and milk at bedtime.”

“There’s a lot of excitement with Brenna’s marriage approaching. Are you feeling left out?”

“Good heaven’s no! I’m in the thick of it.”

Frank smiled. “Yes, I suppose you are. Enjoy this time in your life. It’s pretty exciting, with your peers getting married and starting families. Everyone is looking toward the future.”

Jean smiled wistfully. “Yes, I suppose it will eventually slow down. But it’s pretty exciting to watch.”

“Your turn will come, perhaps faster than you think.” He glanced at her. “Have you seen Ron lately?”

“Ron? No, not even to wave at.”

“I talked to him just the other day. I think he still loves you, honey. If you wanted him, you could probably have him back.”

Jean contorted her face. “I know, but-- I don’t feel completely satisfied with Ron. I loved being with him. We had fun and laughs, knew the same people, enjoyed the same activities. But somehow he just isn’t the one.”

“You thought differently last fall. What changed?”

“I guess I did. He’s probably still the same, old, comfortable friend I used to know. But I‘ve changed. I like books and the arts, and Ron‘s eyes glaze over when I start talking about those things. My world has expanded, and his hasn‘t.”  
“But you still have a lot in common.“

“That’s true. And we always will.“

“I’m not telling you what to do, Jean, but you might talk to Ron sometime. Maybe he could make you happier than you’ve been lately.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been more cheerful.”

“Everyone deserves to have the blues once in awhile. Even you. But you don’t need to suffer alone. Is there anyway that I, or Mother, can help?”

“I don’t think so, Daddy. But I appreciate your concern.” She breathed deeply and frowned. “I guess I better be getting back to Woodstock now.”

“It’s Woodstock, isn’t it? Something’s wrong there.”

“Maybe I’m just sad to be leaving there. It’s only a matter of days now.” She felt like she was lying. But she was simply not telling the complete truth. How could she admit her silly crush for Robert Cramer to her practical father?

 

Jean pulled away from her parent’s home and drove through the quiet streets of Canton in the gathering dusk. She could identify every house she passed and every car she met. This was home. Wouldn’t it be nice to return here permanently?

With Ron?

She pulled into a gas station at the edge of town and waited for an attendant to appear. At last a man in greasy coveralls walked out of the garage. A baseball cap hid his face, and he was wiping his hands on a dirty rag.

“I’m sorry, lady, but we don’t pump gas on Sundays.” He stopped. “Jean?”

Jean blinked. “Ron? What are you doing here?”

“Working on Harvey Wilson’s Volkswagen.”

“You repair foreign cars now?”

Ron leaned on her car door. “I’m branching out. I’m trying to learn about other makes. Someday, I’ll have my own garage, and I want to be as versatile as possible.”

Jean smiled gently. “Sounds like you’re making your dreams come true. I’m happy for you.”

Ron returned her gentle smile. “Everything’s falling into place. I’ve been pretty lucky.”

“Don’t make it sound like your success is a quirk. You’ve obviously worked hard for what you’ve gotten.”

His face crinkled in a big smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Sorry. I tend to go overboard. But don’t discredit yourself. I know that you’re a hard worker.”

“I don’t mind the hard work, especially since I’m succeeding.”

“Daddy said that you’d asked about me.”

“I always do.”

“I’ve been thinking about you, too. Maybe that’s why I turned in here. I was playing some Elvis records last night. Maybe they reminded me of a certain guy with black, curly hair of his own.”

“I’ve missed you, Jean. I’ve missed our friendship.”

“I have, too.”

“Are you thinking of coming home?” he asked softly, hardly daring to hope that this was the case.

Jean drew back. She didn’t want to mislead Ron. “I don’t know for sure. I don’t know what I’m planning to do except leave Woodstock.”

Ron tilted his head. “Sounds like you’re running away from something. Or someone. Is it that guy you were mooning over at New Year’s?”

“Apparently. But I thought at the time that it was his brother I wanted. Then a third brother showed up, and I could’ve fallen for him, too. They both had girls, though, and I was left with the last brother plaguing me. He’s absolutely the worst possible choice in the world for me, and I have to get away from him.”

Ron frowned to keep from grinning. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He felt happy for his friend Jean, but sad for himself. He understood her dilemma. He’d experienced it himself.

“No problem that I can see, Jean. Sounds like you’re in love with some lucky guy.”

“That’s what I’m told,” she grumbled, then looked up at him. “Is it still love when only one person feels that way?”

“I think so,” he whispered with his heart in his eyes. He cleared his throat and frowned. “I know so.”

“Oh, Ron, I, I’ve hurt you so, didn’t I? And I’m hurting you again by telling you about him.”

“I’m still your friend, Jean. I’ll listen.” He mustered a crooked grin. “Heck, I’ll even try to help you forget him by letting you date me again, if that‘s what you need. I‘ll bite the bullet and make that sacrifice.”

Jean laughed, then studied him. “I just might let you do that. But I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, either.”

“It’ll just be two old friends keeping each other company. Your ego is obviously bruised by that blind jerk in Woodstock. Let me help you get over him.”

“I don’t know if anything will do that.”

“Yes, it will, Jean. I know that for a fact, too.” He talked through her protests. “Your year isn’t up, Jean. Not until the middle of September. In the meantime, I won’t push you. Even if we’re dating, and my mother starts asking what colors you like for linens or what pattern of sterling you’ve picked, I won‘t force you to choose furniture styles.”

Jean laughed again. “I do feel better already, just talking to you, Ron. My heart doesn’t feel so battered.”

“You need to step back from that situation in Woodstock. You still have friends, Jean, and countless ways your life can go.”

“You’re right. My perspective has gotten too narrow. I think sometimes we get in situations and we think there’s no way out for ourselves. The world gets to looking pretty gloomy. Then we remember that we can always walk away and start over somewhere else.”

“Or you can come back home, sweetheart, back to where you belong.”

“Ron--”

“Sorry. I broke my promise already, didn’t I? But I really would like to see you again, Jean. And if it’s only friendship we share, I’ll have that much.”

“I plan to be home more weekends now. I’ll call you.”

Ron grinned. “I’ll be here. And we’ll go nice and easy. I won’t push you.”

“Thanks. I really need to leave now and let you get back to work.”

He breathed deeply for courage. “How about a kiss goodbye?” He saw her hesitation and gave her his most engaging grin. “Between friends?”

Jean melted and leaned toward him. The kiss was brief and, as promised, friendly.

“See?” he said softly. “Friend?”

She started her car and gave him a wry smile. “Yes, friend, I do.” 

But as Jean drove away, she wondered if he, or she, would play by the new rules for long. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the smudge of grease on her cheek. She liked it there and smiled at herself. The new rules might not last until July.

Then she frowned. Was she running away, as Ron suggested. Heavens, yes! And now for the biggie: Would she running to a safe relationship with Ron to soothe her injured pride from the battering it had been getting from Cramer? Of course, she would be. She wanted to believe otherwise, but she realized she’d be using Ron. But Ron seemed to recognize what she was doing and wasn’t afraid of being used. In fact, he seemed to welcome it. What was the harm of it, then?

 

“Did you enjoy the prom, Jean?” Rose Paget asked as they stood in the high school hallway and watched as students reported to their first hour classes on Monday morning.

“Well, it was a different experience being on the faculty side instead of the students’,” Jean answered, trying not to lie. She hadn’t exactly enjoyed the prom, but there was no need to let other people know that. “The decorations were lovely.” That much was the truth.

Rose beamed. “Thank you,” she said, pleased that Jean had noticed. “The students worked very hard.”

“So did their teachers.”

“Only another teacher knows that, though, I’m afraid.”

They laughed, then the smile froze on Jean’s face. She saw Cramer approaching them, and Jean was afraid of meeting him. All Sunday she’d dreaded Monday when they’d be thrown back together again. Thank goodness Rose would be with her for that first awkward meeting!

“I loved the style of your dress, Rose,” Jean said quickly, latching onto the first subject to cross her mind. Anything to keep the chatter between them going. Anything to keep Rose with her. “Wherever did you get such a sumptuous design?”

Rose’s eyes flashed with enthusiasm and she began a spirited monologue. “Well, it was quite a coincidence about that--”

Jean kept an interested look on her face, but she was keenly aware of Cramer’s approach from the corner of her eye.

“--the latest French cut shown in New York City. I’ve seen a similar design in Paris MATCH. And I thought, I can get that copied! Oh, Mr. Cramer! I didn’t see you approaching! Good morning!”

“Good morning,” he mumbled. He barely glanced in Jean’s direction as he concentrated on Rose. “How are you this morning?”

“Fine. We missed you at the post-prom party, Bob.”

Rose!

Talk about jumping in with both feet! Jean was curious, too, though. But she would never have asked him straight out like Rose had, not now.

“I had an early morning appointment in Springfield on Saturday. Mr. Adair had excused me from my all night duties after the prom. I had to represent Woodstock at an educational seminar. It started at eight-thirty.”

“Sounds dull.”

“In many ways, it was.”

“I was worried that something had happened to you,” Rose continued.

“Nothing remarkable. Duty called. Thank you for your concern, though, Miss Paget.”

Jean wilted. So much for her romantic illusions that their dance had upset him, and he’d left the prom early because he was too befuddled to think about anything else but her.

“I wanted to speak to you, Miss Paget,” he said, turning his back on Jean, taking Rose’s arm, and leading her down the hall.

Jean watched Cramer and Rose walk away, deep in conversation. Jean was smarting from his rebuff. He hadn’t even excused himself. He’d never been that impolite before. It was as though she’d ceased to exist for him.

She sighed. Maybe that was for the best.

 

Jean picked up the ringing telephone in her apartment. “Hello?”

“Jean? It’s Steve! How are you this evening?”

“Steve?”

“Steve Berends from Springfield.”

“Oh. Steve! I didn’t recognize your voice.”

“How could you? You haven’t heard it much lately.”

Jean grinned. “I hadn’t thought about you since that night I saw you at the educational meeting.”

“Same here. Then I was at a meeting Saturday morning and saw your principal, but not you. And I thought, ‘Dope! You never called Jean.’ So here I am.”

“How have you been?”

“Okay. Trying to wrap up the school year, wanting it to hurry and be done. And hating it because it’s going by so fast. And you?”

“Can’t complain. Listen. Want to continue this stirring conversation over dinner sometime?”

Jean laughed. “Sounds fine with me.”

“Well, put on your glad rags tomorrow night and I’ll take you someplace special.”

Jean surprised herself by actually being excited. “Great!”

 

‘Someplace special’ turned out to be the Starlight Dining Room, the nightclub in Springfield where Paul and Jean had come face-to-face with Elise and Bob. When Jean held back at the door, Steve frowned.

“Have you been here before and didn’t like it?”

“I’ve been inside, but I’ve never eaten here.”

“I’m sure there’s a great story here, or were you just rubbernecking?”

“The country bumpkin taking in the sights? No, I had a real date, but it fell through.”

“The guy must’ve been a real dope then.”

“No, he was wonderful. But he was in the middle of a relationship that he was running away from.” She looked at him with sympathy.

“What was that tragic look for?”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Steve.”

He grinned. “Now, how could a frail little thing like you do that?”

“There’s worse weapons than fists.”

He frowned. “We’re just two friends having dinner, okay? Besides, I’m a big boy now. I’ve got my share of battle scars, just as you do. We’ll keep it light, until you’re ready to get serious.”

“Thank you,” she said wistfully. But she knew they’d never been friends who finally decided to date. He was a date who might eventually become a friend. There was a difference, and he was in a prime location to get hurt if he fell for her and she wasn’t ready.

“Tell you what,” he said as he squeezed her hands. “Let’s go in and have dinner like civilized people do. I’ve got my armor all in place so you don’t have to worry how you’ll affect me. That should protect me from a regular little fire breather like you,” he said as he gently tapped the end of her nose with his finger.

Jean giggled. “All right, but don’t say you haven’t been warned.”

He took her arm. “I didn’t want you to leave here again without eating. The establishment will get paranoid.”

She laughed. “We can’t let that happen, can we?” Then she sobered.

They exchanged glances.

“It’ll be okay, Jeanie,” he whispered. “We’re just two friends out having dinner together.”

“All right,” she whispered back. “I’m game if you are.”

“That’s my girl! Come on, I’m starving!”

And with a merry laugh, they swept into the restaurant.

 

“I know that every red-blooded American male is supposed to like steak, but I prefer seafood,” Steve said as he speared some lettuce with his fork. “You could’ve had steak, though.”

“Seafood is fine,” Jean answered as she prepared to bite into a piece of shrimp. “It’s been ages since I’ve had shrimp. I’d forgotten how delicious they are. And these are so plump! I’m making a regular oinker of myself.”

Steve smiled. “I like to see someone enjoying food, especially women. Some of them just pick around on their plates and leave most of it untouched.”

“Not me! I’m an eater. And I’ll probably pay for it one of these days when the pounds start rolling on.”

“You’d look cute plump.”

“I’d just look plump. Oh, these shrimp are good! And I love the Thousand Island dressing on my salad.”

She was particularly happy that he’d suggested this menu instead of steak and French dressing. Those choices would’ve reminded her too much of Cramer and dinners that they’d shared.

“The food is excellent here, Steve. I’m sorry I missed it the first time around.”

“And it seems to have put some healthy color back into your cheeks.”

“It’s probably the wine,” she said as she sipped her Sauterne.

“Here I was hoping it was my company.”

Her eyes sparkled as she smiled and set down her wine glass. “I’m sure that has a lot to do with it, too.”

He covered her hand with his. “I’m glad I can put the sparkle back in those wistful eyes.”

“I’m generally not noted for my melancholy. Sorry you caught me like this. I promise I’ll get better.”

“I think I know what might help.” He pushed back his chair. “Come on! Let’s dance!”

And dance they did, until Jean was nearly exhausted. But she didn’t want to stop because she loved the way he whirled her around the dance floor. Steve’s gay wit made her laugh as she hadn’t laughed in a long time. She threw back her head and let the wonderful sound rumble out of her being in a satisfying release of pent up emotion. Steve’s eyes crinkled as he joined her in laughing, and Steve took pleasure in her enjoyment. People watching the dancing pair felt a glow from them, and their audience assumed that they were witnessing the couple falling in love, which indeed they well might have been doing.

 

Steve and Jean held hands as they walked slowly up to her apartment door.

“I had a wonderful time, Steve. You can’t imagine what this evening did for me.”

“Oh, yes, I can,” he said as he faced her. “We’re standing in the dark, and I can still see your eyes sparkling.” He squeezed her hand. “I want to see you again, Jean,” he said, huskily. “Please say that I may.”

“Nothing would make me happier, Steve. This evening has been like a tonic to me. I feel like I’ve been awakened from a long stupor.”

“I’m glad. Now I know how Prince Charming felt when he kissed Sleeping Beauty and brought her back to life.” He kissed the hand he held. “Call me old fashioned, but I don’t kiss on a first date, even if I wanted to.”

“I do,” she whispered and leaned toward him.

A few minutes later, he cleared his throat. “Well, that was an old fashioned idea that needed to be discarded, anyway. I think you’re going to be good for me, Jean, in more ways than one. I only hope I can return the favor.”

“You already have. Now, it’s time to say goodnight.”

“I’ll give you a call,” he said as he backed off the front porch.

“Don’t forget this time!” she called after him.

“I won’t!” he called back to her. “I can guarantee that much!”

She smiled as she watched him drive away, then felt her smile fade. While he’d been with her, he’d brought sunshine and hope to her. But now that he was gone again, she felt almost melancholy again.

She breathed deeply and realized she could do that without her chest hurting as much as it had for days. The hold that Cramer had on her had been loosened tonight. Steve Berends might well be the answer to her problems. And Ron was waiting in Canton, just in case Steve turned out to be just a pal.

 

“This looks like a good spot, Jean. It’s between home base and first. A lot of the action takes place here, anyway.”

“And we have a good view of the base line between third and home,” Jean said as she settled on the hard bleacher.

Steve grinned. “You really weren’t kidding about baseball, were you? You really do like it.”

“Of course, I do! Any outdoor sport is great, I guess because it’s played outside.”

“Some girls say that, but they’re more interested in someplace comfortable indoors where they can powder their noses away from insects and the sun.”

“I’m not most girls.”

Steve grinned. “I’m realizing that more all the time.”

But Jean was looking over the field with enthusiasm and was really not hearing what Steve had to say.

“I’ve never been to a junior college baseball game before,” she said.

“I’ve been coming over here for the past four years. It’s a little away from home, but this team has a good rating. I’ve interviewed for a teaching job here.”

“High school?”

He shook his head. “Junior college.”

“Really?” she said with interest as she gazed up at him. “Ready to take the leap?”

He breathed deeply. “I’m not sure. I figure I can always go back to high schools if I don’t like it.”

“How do you think you’ll like it?”

He grinned shyly. “I think I’ll love it.”

She squeezed his arm. “Good for you. This school has a good reputation. Will you be teaching general history?”

“No, I’ll get to specialize in my first love which is ancient history.”

“I’ll have to follow this team a little closer in the newspaper. Since I know somebody who is almost on the faculty. Besides, everyone likes to be a fan of a winning team.”

“I go up to Chicago several times a summer to see the White Sox play.”

“Really?” Jean looked at him. “So do we! We’ve probably been in the stadium together at the same time.”

“Just you and me and several thousand other fans.”

They laughed, then Steve squinted at her in the bright sunshine.

“I know a way to insure that we know we’re in the stadium at the same time. We can go up to a game together sometime.”

She studied him. The trip would probably be an overnighter. Chicago was that far away.

“My parents would go along, of course, and so would my kid sister. Bridget’s a big fan of the Sox.”

Jean grinned. “All right! Sounds like a plan to me. Oh, look! The home team’s taking the field.”

 

The score was close in the bottom of the third when the tie breaking batter came to the plate.

“He’ll hit whatever’s thrown at him,” Steve predicted.

Jean shook her head. “He’s no hitter. He proved that the first time he came up to bat. No, he’ll sacrifice. A bunt will be safer than a fly ball. He wants to get that runner on third safely over home plate.”

It worked just as Jean predicted. The batter executed a beautiful bunt, and his teammate scored from third.

“How’d you know that?” Steve grumbled. “Maybe you better get on the team’s coaching staff.”

Jean laughed and enjoyed her victory. “Lucky guess.”

Steve’s eyes roamed the crowd behind them. “Looks like others were amazed, too, the way they’re cheering. Say, isn’t that the guy you were with at the educational meeting last winter?”

“Where?!” Jean turned, laughter still on her face and saw Robert Cramer staring at her from several rows above them and to the right side. Cramer looked stunned, then angry, then tried to wipe all emotion off his face. Jean raised her hand to wave, then let it fall as Cramer turned away.

“He must’ve not seen me,” she mumbled, but knew better.

“Did you see that slide?!” Steve demanded. “Wow, Jean! That was a beaut!”

“Hmm? Sorry, I missed it. I had something in my eye.”

That ‘something’ had been a tear, not the sun or a speck of dust. But she didn’t want to explain all of that to Steve.

When she looked back several minutes later for Cramer, he was gone. She felt like crying again.

 

“Thanks for a wonderful time, Steve,” Jean said as they sat in his car in her driveway. “I’m sorry you got hit by that foul ball.”

“I thought I was going to catch it until it got lost in the sun. I don’t know what happened, but it wasn’t your fault. I told you so at the stadium.”

“There’s people who believe I draw trouble. You’re foolhardy to be dating me.”

“I’ll take my chances. Say this weekend. How about it?”

“I’m sorry, but I have to go home.”

“Well, sometime next week then?”

“Sure. Call me.”

“You know, I thought you’d left me once this afternoon, but then you came back.”

“Sorry. I got to thinking about, oh, things. I didn’t mean to go all melancholy on you.”

“I’m just curious why some dumb jerk is treating you so badly. It’s because of him that you’re hurting so much, I expect. Doesn’t he care that you care for him?!”

“Oh, Steve, don’t sympathize with me! I c-can take almost anything, but that!”

She wept in his arms and knew that she was hurting him the same way she’d been hurt by Paul and Jerry.

“I’m sorry,” She said, dabbing at her eyes. “I shouldn’t be thinking of another guy when I’m out with you.”

“You can’t help being upset, honey.”

“But I’ve been in the same boat recently that you are in now! Twice! I know how it feels, and it isn’t nice.”

“And what did you think about those two guys?”

“That I liked them and I wanted what was best for them, even if I got hurt in the process. They were decent people and meant me no harm.”

He searched her eyes. “You’ve just described what I feel about you, Jean. I’m your friend.”

“Oh-h-h, Steve!” She threw her arms around him. “Stop being so understanding!”

He kissed her, and she gradually quieted.

“You’re mighty nice to kiss when you’re upset,” he said shyly.

It was her turn to search his eyes. “That was no friend that just kissed me.”

His grin deepened. “Nope,” he said with a grin. “I’m giving you fair warning. I’m out to change your mind about that other guy.”

She grinned back. “Give it your best shot, mister.”

“I intend to.”

She met him halfway across the seat. They were quiet for a long time.

 

Jean had to do some hard thinking. Steve Berends was getting serious, and part of her was anxious for their relationship to deepen. He would certainly appreciate her more than Robert Cramer did.

What, exactly, drew her to Cramer? When had she become aware of him as a man? She let her mind drift back over the winter, then suddenly she knew. With startling clarity she saw Cramer lying sprawled and exhausted on a sofa after working most of the night to save her reputation. She’d often thought since how vulnerable he’d looked and how she’d wanted to protect him. He’d seemed more human that morning dressed in a sweatshirt and blue jeans, and thereby more appealing to her.

She wondered if she’d never seen him vulnerable like that if she’d ever become infatuated with him. She thought of that long ago school librarian who’d lusted after the principal dressed out in basketball gear. Jean completely understood that woman’s feelings. It’d had nothing to do with personalities; her desires were purely physical. Apparently that other principal wasn’t even personable, but that didn’t matter to his admirer. The heart sees with eyes of love, not the mind of logic.

 

“The lake is beautiful in the spring,” Jean said as she kicked a small rock into the water that was gently lapping on the lake shore.

Ron grinned. “You nearly missed spring up here this year. It’s almost June. Summer’s bearing down on us.”

“Stop being so logical! I want to hear poetry from you.”

“How about ‘Your eyes are sparkling like the eyes of the maiden who lives in the lake.’”

“There! That’s more like it!”

He grinned. “I got it out of a book. Just in case I got to use it.”

“I don’t care where you got it, I appreciate it. That’s what I’ve missed.”

“I’ve missed everything about you, Jean,” Ron said softly. “Sorry. I wasn’t going to get serious, was I? I shouldn’t have brought you walking alone. We should’ve stayed where the crowd was, back at the cabin. I appreciate your folks asking me up this weekend.”

“They did because I asked them to ask you.”

Ron stopped walking. “You mean, this weekend was your idea? I thought your folks, or Brenna, was trying to throw us together.”

She smiled. “I am.”

“Why?” he asked suspiciously. “Why all of a sudden am I looking good to you?”

“A girl can change her mind, can’t she?”

“I want to believe you, but I can’t, Jean Louise Harnett. I heard that you’ve been seeing Dale Berends’ son. Is that true?” 

Jean picked at nonexistent lint on her shirt sleeve. “Well, yes, I have been dating Steve Berends.”

“Is he the guy who’s got you in a tailspin?”

“No. And Steve knows it.”

“Are you playing Steve and me against each other, or are you trying to make your mystery man jealous?!”

“Oh, Ron, I don’t know what I’m doing. You and Steve are both great guys, but I think I am using you. Not to see who wins me, but to keep anybody from winning me.”

“You aren’t making any sense.”

“I’m not very sure of myself right now. My confidence has been shaken by that mystery man, as you choose to call him. I feel like I’m unworthy of any man’s affections. That’s why I don’t quite trust you, or Steve when you tell me all sorts of things that a girl generally likes to hear. But it’s a lack in me, not you guys.”

“You feel better pining away for some mystery guy who doesn’t want you than trusting two guys who do want you?”

“I know it sounds stupid, but you’re right. I feel like I don’t deserve either of you,” she whispered.

“You’ve never acted like this before! Thank goodness, you’ll be home soon.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “Thank goodness.”

He studied her. “Maybe your ego’s smarting. Steve and I and your other beaux fell adoringly at your feet. This ‘mystery man’ of yours obviously hasn’t. Even his brothers were easy conquests for you. Maybe you won’t get him, Jean, and that might do you some good. Now you’ll find out how the majority of us gets treated. Love can be pretty cruel, and it’s time you learned that lesson.”

Tears smarted in her eyes. “I wouldn’t take that from just anybody, you know!”

“But you’d take it from a friend.” He watched her struggling not to cry. “I’d like to take you in my arms and comfort you. I’d especially enjoy kissing you, but I’d be taking unfair advantage. You’re pretty vulnerable right now.”

Jean swatted her tears away. “So, what’s a hug between friends?”

Ron smiled softly, pulled his arms around her, and breathed deeply. “Oh, Jean, you’re going to put me through the wringer again, aren’t you? And I’m going to be a willing victim.”

Jean gazed up at him, then pulled his head down for a kiss.

So, what was a kiss between friends?

 

“It was nice seeing Ron around again,” Louise said later back in Canton. “It seemed like old times. He’s got such a nice personality.”

Jean could hear the note of hope in her mother’s voice and glanced at her father who winked at her.

“Ron’s a special friend, Mother. I hope he’ll always be around me, somewhere close.”

“I doubt if friendship is Ron’s primary goal in a relationship with you, Jean.”

Jean stared at her mother, then sputtered with laughter. “Mother! I’ve never heard you be so perceptive.”

“Maybe I’m just a little peeved with you. In my day, we tried to be loyal to our boyfriends.”

“I’m unsettled. Ron knows that.”

“And you have another boyfriend? Steve Berends? I know his family. Dale and Mildred are in the Country Club. You’ll have to bring him home and introduce him.”

“I plan to. This summer.” Why was she trying to make her voice sound more assured than she felt? Steve Berends would make a perfect husband for her, and her folks would love him.

“You girls and your boyfriends! I don’t know why you’ve had so much trouble settling on one guy. I didn’t have that problem.” She patted her husband’s face and watched him beam at her. “I knew when I was fourteen years old.”

Their happiness hurt Jean, too. They had fallen in love at first sight back in junior high and had always been true to each other. Jean envied them. She wanted a love like they shared. Was that too much to ask of life?

 

Jean hugged her old stuffed bear Waldo close to her as she sat in the shadow filled bedroom of her youth. Breaking her usual weekend routine, she was driving back to Woodstock on Monday morning instead of Sunday evening. What with daylight coming so early now, the eighty mile, two hour trip could be done quite easily before school started for the day.

Jean had hoped to discuss her romantic problems with Brenna that weekend, but Jean had barely seen her sister, let alone talk to her privately. Jean needed some of Brenna’s clear-eyed, no-nonsense insights into the situation. But Brenna hadn’t gone to the lake; she’d been understandably busy with Craig and their plans for their future. Jean felt a stab of remorse. This weekend was probably a taste of what life would be from now on. Jean had wanted Craig in the family, but she hadn’t fully realized until now that it would mean the loss of Brenna.

Jean drove back to Woodstock with a feeling of incompleteness, and being at Woodstock didn’t help, either. That week of school felt strange because the seniors were on their trip to Chicago. At last the dazed juniors knew that they had truly inherited the school. And the building felt empty, terribly empty, without the seniors.

Twenty-one seniors had left by train late Sunday night and would return the following Saturday. Their sponsors were Martha Clapsattle, Hank and Joyce Gardener, Robert Cramer and his mother, and Raymond and Helen Ott. Plans included a major league baseball game with the White Sox, a day on Lake Michigan, a theater play, two movies at Cineramas, shopping and sight-seeing in the Chicago Loop, dining in automats and luxury restaurants, a progressive jazz festival, and a sports car rally. Jean was amazed when she read the itinerary and wondered how the sponsors’ energy and patience would last through all those days.

Although Jean had been unable to see the seniors off, she hoped to be present to welcome them home when they got off the train early the next Saturday morning. But on Tuesday, she received a phone call from Brenna who said Jean was needed at home on Saturday morning. And Jean promised she would be home Friday night. This time she felt more of an obligation to Brenna than to returning seniors.

Jean spent that week giving final exams, grading papers, figuring averages, rounding up the loose strings of the year’s work, and trying to keep vacation-restless youngsters occupied.

Jean never drove to school anymore. She enjoyed the walk past the green lawns and the bright spring flowers that she saw along the way. Balmy winds tossed her hair and she felt all goose pimply at her pleasure in Spring.

It should have been a perfect week. But it wasn’t. In the back of her mind, the silly business about Cramer plagued her. His being gone all week helped, and she even managed to forget about him until something almost insignificant would remind her of him. And, then, once again she felt the overwhelming impossibility of a future for her wild crush. For it was a crush, just like some silly schoolgirl would have on an older man. It made her feel so immature! If she could avoid him during the next week of school and then leave Woodstock forever, she might prevent herself further hurt and him further embarrassment.

Jean considered spending time with Alida Cramer next week, but being in the Cramer home would remind her too much of Bob. She knew that she would see him everywhere, even if he was physically absent. Inviting Alida to dinner at her apartment crossed he mind, but that seemed too intimate. Some neutral ground was needed. Jean even considered inviting Alida to coffee at the cafe, but Alida was Cramer’s mother before she was Jean’s friend. That fact alone would remind Jean of Cramer. Finally, Jean took the coward’s way out and wrote Alida a bread-and-butter thank-you note expressing her appreciation for all that Alida had done for her. Although Jean had not spent much time with Alida, she knew she’d miss the kindly lady who acted so aristocratic, but was actually warm and gracious and so personable.

Alida Cramer wasn’t the only person Jean knew she’d miss at Woodstock when she finally left for good. She’d come to love this town and the people in it. She could’ve spent the rest of her life in Woodstock and been contented.

But that simple pleasure was to be denied to her. Squaring her shoulders, she knew she’d find another town and another school that she could claim for her own. She would gradually become a part of the new place as she had here at Woodstock, and her associations with this old town would eventually fade into a wonderful memory.

But, oh, how great it could’ve been! If only--

 

Craig put down his fork. “I’m miffed, Jean. You’ve been holding out on me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Craig.”

“Word on the street has it that you’ve got a new boyfriend. Some good looking guy from Springfield.”

Jean grinned. “That’s Steve. Steve Berends. He teaches at the high school.”

“Brenna says his parents have a cabin at the lake, too. That might get real cozy this summer.”

Jean raised an eyebrow and gave Craig a coy look. “You can never tell.”

“I don’t know this guy, but he has you looking more cheerful than you have been lately. For that, we’re all grateful.”

“Now, what a minute!’ Jean protested, enjoying the gentle teasing. “Don’t make me sound like an old hag!”

Craig grinned. “You’ve got a long way to go before you’re an old hag.” He tilted his head. “But that sparkle is back in your eyes. You’re fun to be around again.”

“I guess I have been a little moody lately. Sorry.”

“Everybody deserves it once in awhile. I hope it isn’t a family trait, though.”

“Oh, you!” She drew back her fist to sock him in the arm, then thought better of it since they were in the school cafeteria. The students mustn’t see them acting human, and Cramer would most certainly disapprove.

Her eyes automatically searched the faculty table for Cramer. Then she remembered that he was on the senior trip. A pang of disappointment stabbed her, and she frowned.

“There it is, back again.”

“Sorry if I’m not very good company, Craig.”

“You can sock me, if that would help.”

She smiled and patted his arm. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass.”

He studied her face. “That smile’s a little wistful, but it’ll do, for now.”

“Give me time, Craig. I promise I’ll be better in a little while.”

“You better be. I can’t have my children’s aunt feeling blue.”

Jean knew that was meant to cheer her, but it made her feel like bawling.

 

Not seeing Cramer at school for two days had begun to give Jean a sense of security, a sense that she could see this thing through until she could leave. She even began to think that she’d read too much into the whole situation and that she had imagined a lot of it.

And, then, on Tuesday night Jean had a caller who blew her theories and her well-insulated sense of security all to pieces.

Jean sat grading final themes in the front room of her apartment. She wore faded blue jeans and an old chambray shirt of her father’s. She was dressed for comfort, not a visitor. Her butterscotch hair was disarrayed from running her fingers through it as she read. Stacks of student papers littered her desk. Five minutes of straightening and cleaning would have improved herself and the apartment. And she became painfully aware of these facts when she answered the knock at her door and saw her guest.

A statuesque, pleasant-faced young woman gazed steadily down at Jean from three-inch heels. Her silken blonde hair was pulled under a black turban hat and her black silk sheath dress was simple, but expensive.

“Won’t you come in, Mrs. Cramer?”

“Thank you, Miss Harnett.” Her heels clicked across the floor, and Elise Ott Cramer sat in the chair that Jean indicated.

Jean stared at her lovely, but puzzling, guest. “Can I get you anything? Some coffee?”

“No, nothing, thank you.”

“What may I do for you, Mrs. Cramer?”

“I’ll come to the point, Jean. If I may call you Jean?”

“Of course.” Jean was amazed. An Ott was talking to her as if she was an equal.

“I’m here to discuss my brother-in-law. Bob doesn’t know I’m here, but Paul and I have decided that you and I should talk, woman to woman.”

“There’s nothing we need to discuss about Robert Cramer. He can do his own talking.”

“On the contrary, my dear. Bob doesn’t know the words. They aren’t in his vocabulary. Yet. We’re hoping you’ll put them there.”

“I think you’re mistaken, Mrs. Cramer. I’m a teacher, not a miracle worker.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re one of the few people who Bob has allowed to get close to him in years. You’re his friend, and that’s not easy to be. He can be very trying, as I’m sure you already know. I should’ve been more of a friend to him, but I was so tangled up in my feelings for Paul that I slighted Bob. Now there’s a distance between us that I can’t cross.”

“You can’t have the same relationship with him that you had before your marriage. He thinks of you as his sister now. You’re no longer just a friend; now you’re something better to him, much better: You’re his brother’s wife.”

Elise blinked. “Of course!” She gave Jean a lovely smile. “I knew you understood him. But you can also help Bob. You can humanize him. Since you’re friends, he’ll listen to you.”

“But you’re wrong! There’s nothing between us!”

“Are you sure, Jean?” she asked gently. “Oh, please help him. We’ve all tried, but only one person can truly do that. And you’re that person.”

Jean jumped up and began to pace. “I don’t know why you think I have any influence on him. I haven’t had a decent conversation with him in weeks.”

Elise frowned. “You haven’t?” Then her face cleared. “You’re not alone. He isn’t talking to the rest of us, either. And we’re at our wit’s end.”

Jean stared at Elise.

“Sit down, won’t you, please? Thank you. I know you’re reluctant to try, but stay here another year and give the both of you another chance at happiness.”

Jean’s smile reflected her bitterness. “Did he send you here to talk me into signing my teaching contract?”

Elise looked puzzled. “No, he didn’t. What I’m talking about has nothing to do with the school. I thought you understood that.”

“I wasn’t sure. I want you to know that I think a lot of Bob Cramer, both professionally and personally.”

Elise smiled. “I know you do. It shows in your eyes.”

“But it isn’t mutual. I’d like nothing better than to do as you’ve asked, but I’ve had no encouragement from Bob. He isn’t interested in me, and I’m not used to that kind of treatment.”

Elise blinked, not quite believing what she’d just heard. “He isn’t?”

“No.”

“Oh. Forgive me. I can see that we misread the situation. We thought that you didn’t want him, but it’s the other way around, isn’t it? Oh, that sounds callous of me, too, doesn’t it?”

“It’s difficult to admit, but as far as I know, he wants nothing to do with me.” She wiped away a tear. “It’s as though I’ve ceased to exist for him.”

“I had no idea.” She saw the tears forming a puddle in Jean’s eyes. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.” She gathered together her possessions and stood. “And it wasn’t my intention to give you false hopes, either. I’m afraid I’ve done more harm than good by coming here this evening.”

“You didn’t know,” Jean said as she stood, too. “You came here in good faith.”

Elise smiled in relief. “Thank you for being so understanding. Paul said that you were a wonderful person, and I can see that he’s right. I wish we could’ve gotten to be friends, Jean. I think we could’ve helped each other.”

Jean felt a stab of regret.

“Thank you for coming by.”

“I really must go now. Paul is waiting at his mother’s. And, I’m sorry, my dear,” Elise said with pity on her face as she squeezed Jean’s hands.

Though humiliated, Jean couldn’t cry after Elise left. Instead, Jean was numb. She must’ve seemed pitiful to Elise. It was one thing to be rejected by Robert Cramer, and quite another for other people to know about it.

Jean kept thinking about the couples she had brought together: Zoe and Brian, Paul and Elise, Brenna and Craig. How wonderfully talented she was at matching people up with each other!

Then why was she alone?

Such a wonderful matchmaker should be able to help herself, shouldn’t she? Or was the assessment she’d made of herself after Jerry dumped her true? Was there something that was terribly wrong with her?

Yes!

 

“I heard that you had gotten a ring, Kendra. May I see it?”

“Oh, of course, Miss Harnett! I love showing if off!” Kendra Ott glowed and put her hand forward for Jean to see. “It isn’t a very big diamond. In fact, it’s just a promise ring. Jon can’t afford very much right now, but I know that his love goes with it.”

Jean smiled warmly. “That’s all that matters, Kendra.”

“I wanted to thank you for being so understanding back in November when you talked to me about Mike McBain. You gave me such good advice! Mike and I dated a few times, and I got to know the real Mike. We became great friends and even studied together, but no real romance ever developed between us. How much more rewarding was my friendship with him than that silly crush!”

“I’m glad you learned the difference,” Jean said self-consciously. “Some people never do. They let a crush torture them, sometimes for years.” People like me, she thought. “I wish you all the best of luck in the world.”

“You, too, Miss Harnett. And thank you for being so understanding. I’ll always remember you as being one adult who could give me some good straight talk.”

Apparently, Jean could do better for other people than she could for herself.

 

“You’ve probably seen this movie before,” Jean said as they stood in front of the Rialto Theater in Woodstock on Wednesday evening.

Steve Berends glanced up at the marquee and grinned. “Last summer in Chicago. I’m a sucker for romantic comedies, though. I can’t get enough of them.”

“I’ve heard the theory that guys like them because they put girls in the mood.”

Steve laughed and nodded at the teenagers swarming around them. “As if kids would need any prompting.”

“Good evening, Miss Harnett,” said a Freshman girl shyly as she glanced at Jean, then at Steven.

“Good evening, Cindy. You, too, Laura May.”

The girls murmured something, then giggled as they entered the theater.

“Kids!” Jean shook her head. “They always want to know who their teachers are dating. It’ll be all over school tomorrow about the handsome man I was seen with this evening. They’ll have you sounding like a cross between Paul Newman and Zorro.”

Steve looked pleased. “At least, I’d always be welcomed. I bet I could sit between Cindy and Laura May this evening and be pampered to death.”

“And I bet they couldn’t tell anyone anything about the movie tomorrow.”

They laughed.

“You’re sounding more cheerful than when I called you Monday night.”

“You have the effect on me. No, I really mean that. I do feel better when you’re around.”

They’d moved a few feet away from the theater, and the movie crowd was thinning.

“I expect the movie will be starting any moment now.”

“If you don’t mind, Steve, I’d rather talk.”

“Fine with me.” He tried to sound casual, but he was frowning. “It’s about that other guy, isn’t it? You’re still not over him.”

Jean nodded, then her eyes widened in alarm. Steve glanced behind him and saw that a good looking man with an infectious grin on his face was bearing down on them.

“Jean!” the stranger greeted as he grabbed her hands. “I didn’t know I’d see you down here!’

Jean retrieved her hands. “Hello, Craig,” she mumbled, hoping he’d leave.

“Going to the show?” His grin deepened as he looked at Steve. “Hi!”

Jean sighed. She’d have to introduce them. “Craig, this is Steve Berends, a friend of mine from Springfield High. Steve, meet Craig Martin, a fellow teacher from Woodstock High.”

“Nice to meet you, Berends,” Craig said as they shook hands.

“Same here,” Steve said as he eyed Craig suspiciously.

Jean knew what Steve was wondering. She cleared her throat. “Craig is going to marry my sister next month.”

Steve wrung Craig’s hand with enthusiasm and grinned. “You’re not the one then.”

Craig looked puzzled. “Not the one then, who?”

Steve saw Jean’s look of panic. “Who keeps beating my basketball boys.”

Craig laughed. “No, I’m not. I coach girls’ basketball, not boys’. That’s why we’ve never met.” Craig frowned. “Funny you should get us mixed up. Ed Walsh doesn‘t look a thing like me.”

“Are you going to the movie, Craig?” Jean asked quickly.

“No, I had something to pick up at the Market. I’d better hurry before it closes. Nice meeting you, Berends.”

They shook hands again.

“If I have my way, Martin, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, say at family dinners?”

Craig looked puzzled, then glanced at Jean who was blushing. Craig winked at both of them and grinned.

“That’s fine with me, Steve.”

“See you, Craig.” He watched Craig disappear into the Market. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is. My sister is lucky.”

“Come on,” he said, taking her arm. “Let’s go on a ride out in the country.”

“No,” she said firmly. “Just back to my apartment.”

Steve’s spirits fell. He knew she was saying goodbye.

 

Steve squeezed the steering wheel of his Chevy as he and Jean sat in the driveway at her apartment.

“You really weren’t ready for a relationship, were you, Jean?”

“I warned you,” she mumbled.

He slapped his steering wheel. “Then why didn’t you fight harder against me?”

She looked at his eyes pleading for understanding. “Because I thought you could help me out of the mess I’m in. And you have helped.”

“But the ‘mess’ isn’t over yet, is it?” he asked grimly.

“Not until I’m out of this town for good. Not until I can face him and prove to myself that I can walk away from him. And then I think I’ll be ready to give you my full attention.”

“In June?” he asked hopefully. “At the lake?”

Jean’s eyes misted. “I really don’t deserve you.”

“Oh, yes, you do. You’re one in a million, and I’m willing to wait a few weeks for you.”

Jean wanted to kiss him or hug him, but she knew it would be kinder to Steve not to touch him.

“Thanks for being a friend,” she whispered and got out of the car.

“Next month at the lake.” He saw her reluctance to give any promises. “If it’s to be, I’ll see you next month, at the lake.”

Jean bit her lips together. “Oh, Steve,” she whispered. “You’re one in a million, too.” She turned quickly away before she started bawling.

As Steve watched her walk away, he realized that she’d promised him very little. But it was enough to pin hope on.

 

As the last bus load of students pulled away from the school yard that Friday, Jean dove into her Chevy and headed for home. Teachers generally got out of school at 4 p.m., but on Fridays, they could leave as soon as the buses were gone. She’d never felt more like escaping from Woodstock as she felt that afternoon, and she pushed the gas pedal until she was doing the speed limit. She was escaping her terrible problem with Cramer, but she knew she would have to face it again on Monday because the Seniors, and Cramer, would be back from Chicago. But for the time being, she could escape. And, in a few short days, she could escape for good. School would be out and she could leave Woodstock, and Robert Cramer, forever.

 

Brenna and her bridal party had their final fittings that weekend. As Jean stood there in her mint green formal, she hoped she would be able to smile at the wedding. She tried to tell herself to straighten up and think about someone else for a change. Maybe she didn’t really know what love was. Maybe her ego was simply bruised because Robert Cramer hadn’t been smitten by her charms.

She glanced at Brenna. The petite, black-haired baby sister looked so lovely in the rows and rows of scalloped lace on her dress. If Jean ever got married, she’d have to wear a plain white dress, perhaps in linen. No pretty chiffon for her.

As she stood there envisioning herself all in white, she wondered if Robert Cramer would think she would make a beautiful bride--

Jean tore her thoughts away, but it did no good to try to concentrate on something else. All that day, she caught herself daydreaming about a wedding featuring herself and Robert Cramer. Brenna would be Matron of Honor and Paul would be Best Man. Jerry would be a Groomsman, and one of Jean’s cousins could be a Bridesmaid. Or should she ask Elise?

Jean smirked. What a foolish exercise! She and Robert Cramer would never be planning their wedding party. She sighed. She and Robert Cramer would never be planning anything together.

“Problems, Jean?” Brenna asked with concern. “Torch trouble?”

“Yeah.” She smiled thinly. “But pay me no attention! I don’t want to spoil all of this excitement for you.”

“I just don’t like to see you unhappy, that’s all. And nothing can spoil my happiness.”

How wonderful to be happy and in love! Lucky Brenna!

 

“Jean, got a minute?” Frank Harnett as his daughter passed his overstuffed chair.

“Sure, Dad. I always got time for my favorite guy.” She dropped onto the hassock at his feet. “What’s up?”

Harnett puffed on his pipe and studied the smoke in the air thoughtfully. “Jeanie, how do you like life?”

“Why, it’s great! Going to parties, being with people, experiencing emotions! It’s wonderful!” She sobered. “Sometimes, it’s not so wonderful, though. Sometimes, this grown-up thing is hard to do.” She frowned. “How do I like life? That’s a leading question, Dad. How do you want me to answer?”

A grin played along Frank’s mouth. “Thoroughly honest Jean. Sometimes your honesty must be maddening.”

“I’ve been told so. But you have no one to blame, but yourself and Mother. You raised me to be honest.”

“So we did. And we must’ve overdone the job.”

She patted his hand. “You could never overdo anything when it comes to loving me.”

“That’s always been the easy part. You and Brenna have been the treasures of my life. And your mother‘s, too, of course.”

They both smiled.

Frank looked thoughtful. “But I won’t always be around to look after you.”

“How morbid! Have you been reading those tombstone ads again?!”

Frank laughed. “No, honey, I’m just worried about your future, that’s all. How are things in the romance department?”

She straightened. “Topsy-turvy. I’ve spoken with Ron, and you’re right. He’s willing to get back together again with me.”

“What about this Steve that you’ve been seeing?”

Jean smiled wistfully. “I think an awful lot of Steve. As soon as I’m able, I’m going to see more of him up at the lake this summer. I hope to be seeing Ron then, too.”

Frank frowned. “Why not now? They’re both nice guys. Why put yourself out of circulation?” He considered. “Is there someone else? Someone you’re seeing in Woodstock?”

“Not really.”

Frank studied his daughter. “Could there be?”

Jean shifted her weight on the hassock. “That’s the problem. There’s someone I’d like to date. He’s not anything what you’d think I’d ever be interested in, though.” She frowned. “In fact, he can be downright obstinate and uncommunicative.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know what I ever saw in him!” She chewed on her lip. “Yes, I do. We became friends. Despite everything, we became friends.” She smiled thinly. “It’s been a rocky friendship, though, with a lot of ups and downs. He doesn’t let too many people get close to him. Sometimes, I wonder why I worked so hard to become one of them.” Her eyes got a misty look in them as her smile became more wistful. “But then I remember why I did. Part of it was because he needed to open up to someone. He really is a wonderful person when he lets himself be. And part of why I like being friends with him is how he anchors me. I feel so settled when we’re together. I relax and know that he’s going to make everything okay.” She looked at her father who had a startled look on his face. “But I don’t know if my attentions are welcomed. And I certainly wouldn’t want to chase him.”

“Of course not,” Frank said as he shifted in his chair. He gave Jean a piercing look. “Is he the reason you want to leave Woodstock?”

“Yes, and I feel so silly if this is only a crush. So, maybe I better not be around his hometown anymore.”

“If it’s love, honey, it’ll follow you, even if you leave the state. And if it isn’t love, then there’s no reason to leave your job.”

“Are you saying that I should sign up at Woodstock?”

“It might be a good idea.”

“How come you’ve suddenly decided this?” Jean asked with suspicion. “Have you been contacted by Woodstock?”

Frank pulled a letter from his pocket. “I got this yesterday.”

Jean glanced at the Chicago postmark and extracted the single sheet of hotel stationery from the envelope. The letter urged Harnett to used his influence to persuade Jean to stay at Woodstock. It was signed by Robert Cramer.

“Of all the nerve!”

“He just want to help, honey. He’s your principal.”

“And he’s also the guy I was just telling you about.”

Her father looked startled. “Is this the guy your mother surprised in the boys’ bathroom? The overly serious one?”

Jean nodded.

“He doesn’t seem your type, honey.”

Jean wrung her hands in frustration. “That’s what I said! But, still, there‘s something--”

Harnett began to chuckle. “Why, honey, you don’t have a thing to worry about. He must like you. He wants you to stay.”

“Sure he does. As a teacher,” she grumbled. “Could you be around someone you liked and just be a co-worker?”

Frank Harnett shook his head in dismay.

“I can’t, either, Daddy. That’s why I have to leave. I can’t be around him on those terms. It’s the only way he wants me. And it’s breaking my heart.”

Frank patted his daughter’s hand absently, but could offer no advice.


	10. June

“That coral dress looks good on you, Jean. The color shows off the tan you’ve already gotten.”

“Thanks, Zoe. I did manage to get some sun this weekend, between final fittings and family dinners.”

“I don’t know how you found the time to lie out with the schedule you had. I don’t even try to sunbathe anymore. I just turn pink and look flushed.”

Brian leaned around Zoe to talk to Jean. “The sun’s not the only thing that turns her pink and flushed.”

“Brian!” Zoe scolded, utterly aghast at his brazenness.

“What? You know you’re allergic to dust. I don’t know what you were thinking about, woman,” he said innocently.

Zoe was speechless and Jean suppressed a grin as she settled back to watch the program that was beginning on the stage in front of them.

Jean had returned early Sunday to attend Baccalaureate services. Now she sat with Zoe and Brian as the ceremonies started. Earlier that evening, they had told her that they were going to Africa as Peace Corps volunteers. She saw the soft glances between them and suspected that they had more news that they weren’t quite ready to share yet.

During the service, Jean glanced at the platform where Reverend Gardener sat listening to white-haired Reverend Phillips’ rather nasal delivery on the subject of keeping God in one’s boat through the voyage of Life. Superintendent Jimmy Adair was intently studying something above the heads of the audience. And Robert Cramer looked hypnotized. More likely, after the week he’d just completed in Chicago, he was asleep with his eyes open.

Jean caught Cramer’s eye several times, but he always looked swiftly away. So much for the cherished notion that he’d missed her while he was gone to Chicago and wanted to spend some time with her now.

When the Baccalaureate services were over, Jean melted into the crowd and left the auditorium as quickly as she could. She was in no mood to socialize, anymore.

 

“Hello?”

“Jean? How are you? This is Jerry Cramer.”

Jean grinned into the telephone. “Jerry! How good to hear your voice! How’s school?”

“Just fine. I’m glad I returned. I wouldn’t have been happy if I hadn’t. I know that know. I have you to thank for that.”

“I’m glad everything’s going so well for you, Jerry. I love hearing from you, but what’s the occasion?”

“I understand you’re leaving Woodstock School.”

“That’s right. In just a few days now.”

“I might not ever hear from you again.”

“Jerry--”

“And I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” she whispered back, unable to raise her voice any higher. 

“I thought you might be staying.”

“I have no reason, now.”

“Might there have been?”

“I thought so. At one time.”

“What’s going on in Woodstock? Or, maybe I should ask, what isn’t going on that should be? Something involving a certain thick-headed brother of mine.”

His voice had lost its light, jaunty tone, and Jean knew what he was talking about.

“THAT seems to have become the favorite contemporary topic of the civilized world. As for the answer, I’m not the person to ask. Ask him.”

“Are you kidding?! I don’t have a death wish. Maybe my family was premature with what they thought was going on between you two, but I was thrilled with the idea. Then it all blew up. I’m nowhere near the battlefield, but from what I understand from others not so lucky, you are by far the more approachable of the two combatants.”

“Your brother’s doing his impression of the Great Stone Face, and doing it rather nicely, too, I might add. The Sphinx will speak quicker. The poor edifice wouldn’t be able to stand the silence and would crack.”

“You sound bitter.”

“I sound tired, tired of the whole mess. I can’t wait until school’s out and I can leave Woodstock and put this year behind me. I’m ready for a fresh start.”

“That’s running away, Jean. You’re no quitter.”

“I don’t care anymore.”

“You do, too, care. You won’t like yourself anymore than I did when I quit college. You wouldn’t let me run away. And I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I stood by and let you do something that I know wouldn’t be good for you, either.”

“But you had something to return to, Jerry. There was something good waiting for you.”

“There is for you, too, honey.”

Tears sprang into her eyes. “At least you had something to pin your hopes on. I don’t.”

“What my brother needs is a good talking to!”

“No, Jerry! At least, not about me. But he does need to talk to someone, someone who’ll listen.”

“That’s what you said to him about me, too, wasn’t it? I always knew you were the one behind that discussion. The only difference is I needed Bob to listen, and I’m not too sure if he needs me to listen to him.”

“Oh, yes, he does, Jerry. He needs you more than he realizes.”

“That’s what I think in regards to you, too, honey,” Jerry said softly. “He needs you more than he realizes.”

“He doesn’t even want to be friends with me anymore, Jerry. Already he’s acting as if I’m gone.”

“He needs to have his eyes opened!”

“Jerry, he’s not interested in me. My imagination got away with me.”

“The big jerk doesn’t even realize how much he needs you, and he’s going to lose his chances with you if he doesn’t wizen up.”

“Jerry--”

“All right. I’ll honor your request. I won’t talk about you to Bob unless he mentions you first. But I’ll feel hamstrung with that promise.”

“I don’t want him to fight with any of you. He needs his family.”

“Well, at the rate he’s going, that’s all he’s ever going to have left.”

 

Jean sat with Brian and Zoe through the numbing graduation speeches on Thursday night, then watched the endless row of shuffling seniors receive their diplomas. Outside, the graduates lined up to shake hands with well-wishers and tried hard not to cry. Jean felt tender toward them and weepy herself.

She was wiping at her eyes when she saw Robert Cramer beckon to her. A command from the boss. Jean steeled herself and threaded her way through the crowd.

“Nice graduation,” she said.

“Thanks. You look rather sad. Is there a problem?”

Jean shrugged. “It’s finally over, for them and for me.”

“You don’t have to leave, you know. A contract is waiting for your signature any time you want to sign it.”

“I know. But, no, thank you.”

“If you’re so determined to leave, can you at least tell me why? I think you owe me that much.”

“I do appreciate your efforts on my behalf. But, as I said before, I’ve got personal reasons for leaving Woodstock. There’s more to life than a classroom.”

“I hope that you’ll reconsider your decision, Miss Harnett. Remember that my door is always open.”

“Thank you for your concern.” She had to get away from his indifference. “Now, if you’ll excuse me--” 

He pressed his lips together to show his displeasure. “Of course. I’m keeping you from your friends.”

Jean frowned. What friends? She was going to her apartment for a long soak in the tub of hot water.

He mistook her puzzlement for intolerance and assumed she was bored with his company. “I see we have nothing more to discuss then, Miss Harnett,” he said stiffly. “Good evening.”

She knew when she was being dismissed. “Good evening, Mr. Cramer,” she answered just as stiffly. “Don’t let me keep you from your duties.”

Jean turned away from him and soon lost herself in the crowd. When she looked back, he was gone. Then she was drawn into a group of students and parents.

Later, as she drove away from the thinning crowds, she remembered Cramer and looked back at the schoolhouse. How lonesome it seemed, especially with that solitary light burning in Cramer’s office.

 

The last day of school picnic was held on Tuesday morning. As soon as the buses arrived at the school, classes grouped themselves together and paraded to the city park. Food was deposited on picnic tables by students who then quickly started softball games.

Jean and Zoe sat in the shadows of a shelter house and watched the sophomores playing the freshmen.

“Craig and Brian are in their element,” Zoe said.

“Yes,” Jean agreed with a laugh. “I’m glad they volunteered for that part of the festivities.”

“They didn’t want to mess with the food. I think that’s why they agreed to that division of labor.” She craned her neck. “I see that the juniors and seniors are on the other diamond.”

“I’m surprised that the seniors came back today. After all, they’re graduated now.”

“I imagine they feel like people without a country. They don’t join the alumni association until Saturday night. So this is their last school function.”

“They waited for graduation for so long,” Jean mused. “Now it’s here, and they don’t want to give it up.”

“It’s hard to end a part of your life. You know, Brian and I have been so busy preparing for our future, we’ve almost let the present slip away without realizing what we were losing. But the other night after graduation, we lost track of you, and it made us both realize that one of these days we won’t be seeing you anymore.”

Jean frowned. “Don’t, Zoe. This is all going to be tough enough anyway without your getting sentimental.”

“Brian and I have neglected you since we got married.”

“That’s the way it should be.”

“No, it isn’t. Friends shouldn’t do that to friends. We’re both sorry.”

“Gosh, Zoe, I’m as bad as the kids. I’ve wanted the year to be over, too, and now I can’t stand that it’s gone. I’ll miss you and Brian so much. I wonder what the school will be like next year with some of us gone?”

“It’ll get new teachers and develop a different personality with them. It won’t be better or worse than the one we gave it, just different.”

“If wonder if my school teachers ever felt this way?”

Zoe sighed. “Probably the good ones did. The poor ones thought only of themselves and of what they hoped would be easy pickings and a soft job at the next school.”

“Are you scared of going to Africa?”

“God, yes! I wouldn’t admit that to Brian, but I am. It’ll all be so different over there. And, I suppose, when we come back to the States, I’ll miss that damned Dark Continent that’s scaring the hell out of me now.”

“Is it partly because of the baby?”

“How did you know that?! Did Brian say anything to you?!”

Jean laughed. “Not in so many words. Remember prom night? How protective he was of you? You didn’t even get to stay up all night. I was Brian’s date at the movie.”

Zoe smiled crookedly. “Oh, yes. That. I should’ve known that you would’ve noticed solicitude from that old curmudgeon. Me, I couldn’t believe what a fast worker he was. I must’ve gotten knocked up on that weekend honeymoon.”

“Zoe!” Jean scolded with a hoot of laughter. “Such language from a school teacher!”

“Just an honest testimonial from a satisfied customer.”

Both women laughed, then gradually quieted.

“I’m so glad that you and Brian found each other.”

“He’s made all the difference in the world to my life. I feel complete now.” She smiled gently. “Don’t worry. Your turn will come.”

Jean sighed. “I hope so.” She turned her head toward a loud cheer coming from one of the ball games. “Somebody must’ve scored a big run.”

Zoe craned her neck. “I think the faculty’s playing ball now. They’re all big kids wanting in on the fun.”

“Maybe that means the games are about over.” She made rustling motions as if to stand. “I suppose we should be getting this food arranged.”

Zoe grabbed her hand. “Wait. I really have missed talking to you. We shared over six months together, and we’ll never have that back.”

“I know. There’s so much I’ll miss about this year.”

Another loud cheer drew their attention to the game being played between the juniors and the seniors.

Zoe smiled. “Did you see that running, backhanded catch? Mr. Cramer makes a good outfielder. God, doesn’t he look good in that sleeveless T-shirt and those ragged cutoffs? Who would have ever thought he had muscles? You know, he looks kind of cute, especially today.” She looked back at Jean. “Don’t you think so, too?”

“I didn’t see the play,” Jean mumbled with lowered head, but her face was flushed.

“You never have been a good actress, Jean. Or liar.”

Jean looked up to protest, then turned away again.

“What’s wrong, Jean?” Zoe persisted. “Is there a problem? With Cramer, for instance? A romantic problem?”

Jean frowned. “Is it that obvious?”

“No. I just know what to look for. I’ve been there. Remember?” Zoe frowned herself. “Why Cramer?”

Jean shrugged and sighed. “I wish I knew. Something about him appeals to me, I guess. Who can explain love? Does Brian know about my feelings for Cramer?”

“He’s just puzzled about the obvious distance between you and Cramer. Me, too. I don’t see you two together anymore. I thought you were pretty good pals.”

“So did I.”

“Of course, that was just a coincidence. The main reason why you two ever got together in the first place was a process of elimination. Everyone else got paired up, and you two were left with each other. Neither one of you seemed to be fighting it, though.”

“Not for awhile. It was easier that way, especially when we had to go to those county educational meetings. You wouldn’t think of Jimmy Adair as Cupid, would you? But he’s the one who got Bob and me together.”

“You two should be into a relationship by now, but aren’t. Why not?”

Jean shrugged. “I fell in love, and he didn’t. And he could care less. He isn’t interested in me. He either fights with me or ignores me, and it’s breaking my heart.”

“Don’t waste your energy. He doesn’t appreciate you.”

“I know. That’s why I’m marking time until I can get out of here. But I feel like such a quitter. I know I could be important to him, I just know it! But I can’t reach him.”

“He’s complete unto himself, Jean. He needs nobody.”

“But I need him! Isn’t it rotten? Suddenly, I need HIM, of all people! I thought it was the other way around, but I’m going to be lost if I walk away from him.”

“I know what you mean. You think the world will never have light in it again unless that louse turns it on.”

Jean’s smile quavered. “That’s about it. I remember what you said about crushes. They are hell, Zoe. I haven’t had a crush on someone since I was twelve years old. Now I develop this, this THING for someone who isn’t even very desirable by most people’s standards. And I keep asking myself, ‘Why me?’”

“Because someone has to love the louse.”

Jean laughed nervously.

“Of course, he’s not really a louse, or you wouldn’t love him. He has his good qualities. And he’s human. You just have to convince him that he needs you.”

“I’ve tried. I’ve about drawn pictures. And each rebuff makes me a little more hesitant to try again. I’m not very brave. I’m tired of suffering.” She dabbed at tears.

“Dry your eyes. I think it’s time to get ready to eat, and you don’t want to be seen crying. Buck up, Jean. It’s only a few more days. Then you can leave that stonehearted man to stew in his own juices. If you’ve tried your honest best, give up on him as a lost cause. Don’t hurt yourself anymore.” She pursed her lips. “It’s too bad that he can’t be suffering, too. It’d serve him right.”

“Thanks, Zoe. I knew you’d be able to see things clearer than I could.”

“I hope you brought your pop opener with you. I have a feeling that Landis forgot his again.”

Jean grinned, although her lips were shaky with emotion. She knew she was really going to miss this past year.

 

Jean ran to answer the knock on her apartment door. Who in the world could it possibly be?!

“Paul!”

“May I come in, Jean?”

“Well, sure, I-- Forgive me. Do come in, Paul.” She stepped aside as he entered her apartment. “I’m forgetting my manners. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you. Won’t you have a chair?”

“Thanks.” But he continued to stand. “And I forgot my manners. I should’ve been here earlier. I did a rotten thing to you by leading you on and then eloping with Elise.”

Her eyes smarted with tears. “I understood. Your brother Bob and I talked it out. Yes, we were hurt, but we were happy for the both of you. I think we worried that we’d lost you. And in a way, I guess we did. Bob said it was okay, that the two of you were friends, in fact better friends than before. I wondered if he’d lightened the situation up for my benefit. You see, it was my friend Paul that I missed, not necessarily a sweetheart.”

“And for that, I am humbly sorry.”

“I understood.”

“But I could’ve come here afterward and apologized to you! I was a coward not to do that right away.”

“I understood that, too. You and Elise were starting your life together.”

He grasped her hands and searched her eyes. “But I didn’t need to neglect a good friend. And we are friends, aren’t we, Jean?”

“Of course, we are.”

She went into his arms and hugged him. It was very soothing, and Jean realized how much she’d missed him. She pulled away and smiled at him. “Now, won’t you have a chair?”

They settled on the sofa together and sat facing each other, once again holding hands.

“I am happy for you and Elise, really and truly I am. She seems like a nice person. I think that you are a very lucky person to have gotten her. I‘m sure that the two of you will be very happy together.”

“Thank you, sweetheart, and I want you to know that if there hadn’t been an Elise, I would’ve pursued you until I’d gotten you. I would’ve beaten anybody’s time, even my own brother’s.”

“That wouldn’t have taken much effort,” she mumbled as she started to pull away.

But he held her hands tightly. “I’m here on Bob’s behalf.”

Angry tears dotted her eyes. “And does he know that you’re here?!”

“No. And he probably wouldn’t like it if he knew. He’s been a regular bear ever since prom, but he won’t open up to us. We think it has to do with you, but we’re not sure. How can we be, when he won’t say anything to us?”

“Why do you think his ill humor involves me?”

“By accident, Mother mentioned you one day, and he about bit her head off. She asked if you were returning to Woodstock next year, and he answered, and I quote, ‘No!’ Mother dropped the subject. Bob rarely talks to Mother that way, and it only happens when he’s deeply angry. He is fuming. We can all tell that. You are a taboo subject to Bob.”

“I haven’t been his favorite person lately.”

“Have you been fighting with him?”

“We disagree on a number of subjects, from educational theory to what kind of furniture to buy for a house.”

Paul blinked, then grinned. “You two talked about furniture styles?”

“We discussed a lot of topics on those trips to Springfield. No, I guess we discussed furniture after Brian Landis got hurt and we slept on a hospital couch together.”

Paul’s grin deepened. “You and Bob slept on a hospital couch? Together? I didn’t know that Bob had it in him.”

“He doesn’t,” she said wearily. Any other time, she would’ve been enjoying the ridiculous story she was telling to Paul. It was obvious that he was enjoying hearing it. “Waking up with him on my shoulder was about as exciting as waking up with my Uncle George or my cousin Phil. The experience was about as antiseptic and squeaky clean as the hospital itself.”

“That’s because he’s always a gentleman.”

“I know,” Jean said, remembering the night she spent with Robert Cramer in the Springfield hotel. She was NOT going to tell Paul about that incident.

“Jean, Bob’s such an amateur when it comes to romance. He never really dated in high school and college, so he doesn’t know about romantic relationships. I know that I said back in January that someone should knock him off his moorings, but he’s really floundering and he doesn’t have a clue what to do about it. That’s why we thought you were being unresponsive to him, not the, ah, other way around.”

“And you think I have the solution to his problem?”

“I think you ARE the solution, but I also think he doesn’t know what the problem is. He has to learn what love is, and I think you can teach him that.” He squeezed her hands. “You do love him, don’t you?”

She sat upright and pulled her hands out of his. “God, this is such a ridiculous situation! I’d laugh about it if it wasn’t so sad.” She looked in his eyes. “The man and woman in question generally thrash this out, not interested parties. I expect your mother will be over here next.”

 

“She’s considered it.”

Jean gasped in exasperation.

“Jean, we don’t want to butt in on your or Bob’s business, but we love both of you and hate to see you so unhappy.”

“But we don’t know Bob’s feelings, do we? He’s been very distant with me for several weeks.” She studied her hands. “As for saying that I love him, I prefer to keep that to myself.” She looked up with tears in her eyes. “I have to keep some pride.”

Paul made a motion toward her, but she leaned back.

“And if you put your arms around me now to comfort me, I’ll lose whatever dignity I have left. Your brother is a heart killer, Paul, and my better judgment tells me to leave while my heart’s still intact. Can you blame me?”

Paul massaged her hands. “No, sweetheart, but I think it’s a crying shame that you and Bob can’t get together. You’d be so good for each other. He just doesn’t realize how much he needs you.”

“Paul, the bottom line is I don’t think he’s interested. He’s been avoiding me like the plague since prom, and I think he’s biding his time, also, until school’s out and I’m gone for good.”

“Just what happened at prom, anyway?” He saw tears puddle in her eyes. “That’s none of my business,” he whispered. “Forgive me for asking.”

“Nothing happened, Paul,” she whispered back. “That’s the problem. He turned his back on me and walked away. And he’s barely spoken to me since then. It’s as if I’ve ceased to exist to him. Anger I could understand and cope with, but this indifference is killing me. Can you blame me for protecting myself?”

The only answer that Paul Cramer could give her was a puzzled frown.

 

“Since we had to attend yesterday’s last day of school picnic, our usual Tuesday morning faculty meeting had to be moved to Wednesday morning which I hope will not interfere unduly with anyone’s schedule,” Cramer started. “The next three days are reserved as teachers’ workshops in which we will finish up this year’s work. Tidy up your classrooms and put away materials in filing cabinets so that the materials may be found by you, or your replacements, next fall.”

Jean had to fight sleepiness. The air outside was heavy and languid with the promise of a hot summer filled with lazy days. And Jean ached to be in the fresh air and sunshine as much as any of her students must have last week when they were still being held prisoners by the school system. Now, the students were free, and their teachers longed to join them.

Jean was also tired after her emotional day yesterday. First had been the conversation with Zoe, then Paul’s visit in the evening. Jean had been exhausted when she had finally fallen into bed, and she had spent a restless night before rising to a mind-numbing day.

And now Cramer’s speech wasn’t helping matters. It seemed so obvious what he was saying, but Jean supposed that he had to say it anyway so that there would be no misunderstandings.

“Teachers are required to stay until Thursday noon at which time you may start checking out,” he droned on. “You will have until Friday afternoon at four o’clock to finish your duties, but I suppose no one will take that long.” He favored them with a tight-lipped smile as if to say that he understood their wish to finish as soon as possible.

Jean noticed that no one was particularly paying him any attention, but no one was being disrespectful, either. The school year was over, and everyone just wanted to be done with it. Everyone, that is, except Cramer who had a prescribed amount to say and meant to say it.

Then, suddenly, he was finished. “To the members of the faculty who will not be with us next fall, may I wish you good luck in the future and thank you for all the help you have been to me this year. I couldn’t have seen the school year through without you. And to the returning faculty, I’ll see you in the fall. I hope you will be as helpful to me then as you have been this year. Have a good summer. I plan to.”

A polite ripple of laughter answered him as he collected his papers and left the library. Teachers began stirring and talking among themselves, then slowly drifted into the hallway.

“Have you decided where you’re going to locate next year, Miss Harnett?”

“No, Miss Clapsattle, I haven’t.” Jean closed the drawer to the library desk on the year’s final statistics and wondered who would be opening it in September. “I understand that you have decided to retire.”

“Well, my knees decided for me. Weather like today’s is wonderful, but getting out of bed on cold winter mornings has gotten to be more of a chore than I care to face for another year. Mr. Cramer was reluctant to let me go. Returning faculty is uppermost in his mind. I believe he’d do anything to keep teachers from leaving.”

“You’re right. This is the only thing important to him. People aren’t.”

“Sometimes it probably seems that way. I expect it’s difficult being an unbiased administrator. Mr. Cramer probably gets pulled so many different ways, but I’ve always found him to be fair and professional.”

“So have I,” Jean mumbled. It’s only as a person that he comes up short, she thought. She smiled at Miss Clapsattle. “Well, however we feel about the school year, it’s over with now, right?”

Miss Clapsattle returned the smile. “And it hasn’t been all that bad. I’ve seen worse.”

“And I may eventually look back on this year as one of the best in my teaching career.”

“It won’t take that long. When you start in at another school, you’ll miss this place. A teacher never forgets her first school.”

 

Miss Clapsattle’s words left Jean feeling generous with Cramer. There was probably only one more interview with him, and that would be when she turned in her keys. After having her emotions run between ecstasy and anger by him, she planned to be as indifferent to him as he had been to her.

It would be only later, when she was away from Woodstock and all that it represented, that she would allow herself to hurt. And she knew would hurt. For awhile. Maybe for a good, long while.

Then she could go on with her life.

 

Wednesday passed in a whirl of packing and storing in her classroom. That evening, Jean was exhausted, but the muggy weather made her uneasy.

“Jean, did you see how funny the sky looks?” Mrs. Doubleday asked from their adjoining doorway.

Jean closed the book she was reading and joined her landlady on the front porch. The wind was blowing uneasily, and dark clouds rolled overhead. Twigs and other debris sped fitfully around the yard.

“It’s tornado season,” Jean said as they walked around the corner of the house. “I’m surprised that we haven’t had any bad storms come through here this spring.”

“Just look at those clouds,” Iris Doubleday said as she pointed toward the southwest. “That’s coming our way, and it looks bad!”

“Well, at least there’s nothing to worry about so far. We haven’t heard the sirens go off yet.”

As if on cue, the tornado sirens began to blast.

“Let’s go to the cellar, Mrs. D!”

“Where’s my Fluffy cat?!”

“Forget her!” Jean yelled in the rising wind as she pushed Mrs. Doubleday toward the cellar. “She’s a smart cat! She’s probably waiting for us at the cellar door!” 

And Fluffy was.

 

Later, out at the Farnsworth place southwest of town, Robert Cramer stopped in his cleanup efforts and looked back toward Woodstock. The tornado sirens had stopped long ago, and the menacing bank of dark clouds were a distant dot on the northeastern horizon. It hadn’t been so long ago that he’d seen those same dark clouds hanging over Woodstock and threatening all that he held dear: his mother, his home, his school, and all the people in the small town that made up his life. He couldn’t spare any of them.

He wondered idly if Jean Harnett would’ve had enough sense to seek shelter. Didn’t Iris Doubleday have a storm cellar in her backyard? It seemed that he could remember that she did--

“Watch out for that tin, Bob,” Kenny Elliott cautioned. Kenny was Bob’s second-cousin once removed and operated heavy equipment for the next county. He’d come over with several other men to help clean up the remains of the old cow shed that had been destroyed by the passing tornado. That shed should’ve been torn down years ago, so its destruction was no great loss. Nothing else on the Farnsworth place had been touched by the stern, but tin lay scattered everywhere.

Cramer bent down to help lift a piece of the limber, battered tin and wondered absently if anybody in town had gotten hurt. Had Jean gone to the cellar, or recklessly stood outside and watched the boiling clouds? It’d be just like her to be so fascinated by the approach of the potential destructive force that she had stood mesmerized by it and had been thrilled by the fact that mere man could not harness it, let alone predict it. Cramer frowned. Why couldn’t she--

“Bob!”

Cramer grabbed his right forearm and saw blood ooze up between his clutching fingers even before he felt the searing pain.

“God Almighty, Bob!” Kenny shouted as he grabbed the bleeding arm to take a look. “Why’d you go and do that for?! I’m going to have to get you to a doctor’s and have that arm taken care of! You‘re bleeding like a stick cow!”

“It’s nothing, Kenny.” Cramer protested.

“Nothing, hell! You’ll need stitches and a tetanus shot, for starters! But I don’t know if the doctor can do much for that cotton in your head! You’ve been gathering enough of it to keep a cotton gin humming for a month. That arm’s going to be sore as hell for awhile. Maybe it’ll be a reminder to pay attention next time! Come on!” he grumbled as he grabbed Cramer‘s good arm. “Let’s go. And try not to bleed all over my new pickup!” He picked his way through debris. “And don’t fall over anything! No need for you to hurt yourself any further.”

Cramer followed sheepishly. He knew Kenny was more worried than angry with him, but that didn’t make Bob feel any better. Where HAD his mind been lately?

 

“There wasn’t much damage. Some farms had scattered damage. The Farnsworth place lost an old cow shed,” Mrs. Doubleday reported the next morning. “I knew you’d be interested since you’re a friend of the Cramer family.” She watched Jean drinking orange juice. “Oh, and Robert Cramer got hit by debris that cut his arm. Not very bad, though,” she said to Jean’s questioning glance.

 

Thursday noon the four of them dined on sloppy Joes and French fries at the cafe for the last time. It was a subdued group. When it came time to part, Jean almost wept. Sure, they would be together for Brenna and Craig’s wedding next month, but it wouldn’t be the same. This year with Craig and Brian and Zoe was over.

The four of them split up and headed back to school. Except for Jean, who said she had to make a stop at her apartment. Truthfully, she could not be at school when the others started signing out and leaving that afternoon. She had to get away and be by herself for awhile. On impulse, she jumped into her car and sped out of town to visit places she’d never see again.

 

When Jean arrived home early that evening, Mrs. Doubleday was waiting for her. “Where have you been, dear?” For some reason, she looked worried.

“Driving around. Why?”

“People have been looking for you. I’ve had several phone calls. You’d best call Zoe. She’s worried about you. I hope it isn’t anything serious, dear.”

Obvious relief reflected in Zoe’s voice. “Where have you been, girl?! Brian was ready to organize a search team!”

“Nowhere. Anywhere.” She sighed. “It was nowhere important, Zoe. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m sorry. I just had to get away for awhile.”

“I understand. And I guess we shouldn’t have been so paranoid about you, but Cramer got us all worked up.”

Jean frowned. “Cramer? What does he have to do with all of this?”

“He couldn’t find you in your classroom. He couldn’t find you in the library. He couldn’t find you in my room or Brian’s room or Craig’s room or the teachers’ lounge--”

“What was the big deal, anyway? I didn’t need to be chained to that school this afternoon. I understood that we could come and go as we chose, just so we had signed out by a certain time.”

“Apparently you should’ve told him you wouldn’t be around. Maybe he thought you’d had some trouble. I don’t know. But check with him. He’s down at the schoolhouse.”

Jean tried to ring the principal’s office, but the telephone was busy. Jean sighed. Cramer was probably stirring someone else up. She’d better get down there and see what he wanted with her before he called out the National Guard.

She did feel a little guilty as she drove toward the schoolhouse. It wasn’t nice for an adult to go off like she had and then worry people who were concerned about her welfare. No wonder Cramer was upset. She’d be upset, too, about someone who’d apparently dropped off the face of the planet when that person was supposed to be somewhere.

Jean walked down the darkening hall, aware of her nearly silent passage with the tennis shoes she was wearing. High heels, her general garb, would have warned anyone of her approach to the principal’s office. But Cramer wouldn’t have noticed her anyway. His back was turned to look out the window, and he was talking on the telephone. Once again, he was leaning dangerously back in his chair.

“Let me know if you hear anything, Mr. Martin. Anything at all. Yes. Anytime. I’ll be here. Goodbye.” He patted the phone receiver in his left palm a moment and stared out the window while he frowned and chewed the inside of his lower lip. Then he turned to hang up the phone and jerked when he saw Jean standing in the doorway.

“Were you looking for me, Mr. Cramer?”

Cramer came down hard on his feet and spun out of the chair. One of Jean’s questions got answered, but not the one she’d just asked. No, he wouldn’t flip backwards in the chair, even if he were surprised and had to fight to regain his balance.

“Where have you been?!” he demanded as he leaned forward on his knuckles on the desk. His face was dark red with annoyance and relief.

She recoiled backwards from his anger. “Saying goodbye.”

He straightened. “To whom?! I couldn’t find anybody who’d seen you since lunch! Where were you?!”

She shrugged. “I guess, just, around. Maybe I should’ve told someone where I was going.”

“Yes, maybe you should have!”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know you’d raise a general alarm concerning my whereabouts.”

He began to pace. “It was very inconsiderate of you to do something like this! You are generally more responsible than this!”

“I wasn’t aware that I was required to be in the schoolhouse this afternoon. I thought I could check out anytime between one today and four tomorrow.”

He turned with fury on his face. “It had nothing to do with your duties to the school!”

Again, she recoiled from his anger. “What, then?”

That question stopped him and he struggled for an answer. Then the phone rang and he grabbed it. “Cramer!” he barked with annoyance. “Yes. She’s here now.” He breathed deeply. “All right. I don’t blame you.” Glaring, he thrust the phone at her. “Mr. Martin wants to talk to you. You can at least ease HIS mind. I only hope for his sake that it’s not a family trait.”

She glared at Cramer and turned aside. “Hello? Craig?”

“Jean? Zoe told me that you’d called her. Are you okay?”

“Yes, Craig.”

“Von Cramer sounds pretty mad. Do you want me to come down there?”

“No. No, thank you. You needn’t bother. I’ll be okay.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but I’m finding out. I’ll talk to you later, Craig.”

“You better. I can’t take too many of these afternoons.”

She grinned. “Thanks, big brother. I love you, too.” She hung up and glanced at Cramer. He didn’t look any calmer.

“I didn’t mean to worry you, Mr. Cramer.”

“You disappeared! Nobody knew where you were! Of course, we were worried!”

“I drove to Springfield and looked around.”

“You were out sightseeing?!” He flung his arm toward the northwest. “The tornado didn’t even go that direction!”

“I wasn’t interested in tornado damage. I was saying goodbye to familiar places in Springfield.” She saw that her quiet voice was calming him as he listened to her. “I doubt if I’ll ever see that town again. I drove by the school where the educational meetings were held and the hotel where we stayed. Then I came back to Woodstock.”

His eyes blazed with renewed anger as he pointed out the window. “You didn’t come down THAT highway!”

“You’re right. I didn’t. I came in the back way. I was out at the farm. For a long time. I saw where the shed debris was piled to be burned.”

He stopped and frowned. “The Farnsworth place?”

“It’s lovely out there. I’m glad the tornado didn’t do any more damage than it did. I’ve seen the farm in all its seasons now, except high summer. I’ve had some good times out there. I’ll miss it, and Woodstock, and, and, and everybody here,” she finished lamely and glanced at his frazzled face. “Relax. Your responsibility for my welfare has ended. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“I wasn’t worried about my responsibility,” he mumbled. He paced his office and rubbed the back of his neck. “You shouldn’t go off just like that, without telling anyone. I was afraid something had happened to you.”

“I’m puzzled. What’s got you so concerned about me? You’ve been staring holes through me for a month, like I‘m not even there.”

“That’s your impression,” he mumbled.

“It is not! You’ve been deliberately snubbing me. It worked once when you told me you weren’t ignoring me, but not this time. I ought to know when someone’s indifferent to me.”

“How did you have time to notice?” he asked as he stopped and looked at her. “You’ve been too busy keeping track of all the men in your life.” He started pacing again. “First Landis, then Martin-- Or was it the other way around? And then my own BROTHERS, for heaven’s sake--”

“But I don’t see any of them anymore! You know that! What is your problem, anyway? Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were jealous.”

He threw his hands up in a gesture toward the ceiling. “And how about now?! What about Steve Berends?!”

Jean chewed her lip. “I don’t quite know what will happen with Steve.”

“Then there’s some guy named Ron back in Canton whom you’ve started dating again--”

“Wait a minute! How did you know about Ron?! Who have you been talking to?!”

He stopped. “Your mother.”

“My m-- In Canton?! Did you get my family stirred up?!”

“I thought you might’ve gone home for some reason. You weren’t in Woodstock, so I thought, by chance--” He shrugged.

“Good grief!” she muttered. “I’m going to have to call those poor people! They’ll be worried sick! I’m sure you won’t mind if I use your telephone!” She dialed the phone and perched on the edge of the desk. 

“Mama? It’s Jean. No, I’m okay. Yes, I am. Really.” She shot Cramer a disgruntled look over her shoulder, then turned her back on him. “There was a mix-up. Someone got excited. Yes, much too serious for his own good, I agree. No, he’s generally not crazy, too.” She paused. “Who knows why? I don’t understand it, either. Don’t worry now. I’m okay. I’m not too sure if other people are, though.” She threw a thunderbolt in Cramer’s general direction. “I only know that someone has a lot of explaining to do.” She shoved herself off the desk. “I’ll be home tomorrow. Yes, I will drive carefully. Say ‘Hi’ to Daddy and Brenna. Love ya, too. Goodbye.” She hung up and turned with fury on her face. “My mother was about frantic! Thank you, very much!”

“I’m sorry I upset her. She seems like a nice lady.”

“Then, why did you do this to her?! Are you crazy?!”

“Maybe I am. Any sort of sanity left me months ago, sometime after the first of September. But I had help.”

“Are you saying that I drove you crazy?!”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’ve had such a bad effect on you!”

“How could you not?” He started pacing again. “I’ve never seen anyone who could get in such ridiculous situations! Almost arrested at a haunted house! Nearly involved in a drunken driving charge! I never knew when the next phone call from you or your next appearance in my office would plunge me back into the cauldron again. Oh, I suppose I shouldn’t blame you. You can’t help it if you draw trouble. Now, I, on the other hand, I should’ve known better. I should’ve never allowed myself to get sucked down into all the madness, that’s all. But how could I prevent my involvement when I was your principal and responsible for you?”

“Now, wait a minute--”

He shook his head as he paced. “Madness. That’s what it was. Madness!”

“Will you just stop and listen--”

“But what I can’t understand is why I should miss being a part of it. Any normal person would be happy when it ended. But, oh, no! Not me!”

“Will you stop pacing and look at me?!” She grabbed his passing arm and was surprised as he grimaced and gasped in pain. She glanced at his pinched face, then shoved up his unbuttoned sleeve to reveal the bandage on his forearm. “You’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

“I heard that you had gotten hit by something out at the farm last night, but I had no idea--” Her face drained of color as she put her hand up to it.

He grabbed her arms to steady her. “Here. Sit down.” He eased her into the wooden chair and knelt beside her. “Don’t faint on me,” he murmured as he steadied her in the chair.

She made an upward, fluttery motion with her hand and lightly touched his face. Her thumb gently stroked his cheek. “Are you okay?” she whispered. 

“I will be,” he whispered back.

Her hand fluttered away from his face. He caught her hand and cradled it between his before placing it on her lap.

“What happened?”

“Something silly,” he answered. “I was daydreaming and a piece of tin cut me. I had to have several stitches.”

She shuddered. “Why weren’t you more careful?! I couldn’t stand it if you got badly hurt!”

“Shh! I know. I know,” he said, patting her hands. “Now you know what I’ve been going through these last few hours. I didn’t know what had happened to you, and I was about frantic. I couldn’t find you anywhere, and the school felt so empty without you. I don’t know what I’ll do when you finally leave here for good.”

She frowned as she tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

“I know you’re anxious to be on your way, and I don’t blame you. But I’m losing a friend, one of the few I’ve got, and I don’t know what to do about it. I should’ve told you a long ago time what you mean to me, how much I value your friendship, how much I’ll miss you--” He looked at her mystified face, shoved himself to his feet, walked toward his desk, and gazed out the window.

Jean followed him with her eyes.

“I know I’m not making much sense. I’m not making much sense even to myself. It’s been such a topsy-turvy year, and there’s been more than once I’ve felt off-balance. I’ve tried to think back to when I first thought I was in the middle of a Marx Brothers film. Was it actually that night in the hotel room? Or was it seeing you kiss Jerry under flashing porch lights? Or Paul under mistletoe that didn’t exist? Or taking you out to the farm after the Thanksgiving fiasco and letting you bawl all over my shirt?” He started pacing again. “Or seeing you with that silly red bow in your hair at the football game? Or hearing you explain that you picked Woodstock School because the name reminded you of a romantic novel you’d once read?” He paused to look out the window again. “But then there were the other times. Maybe they weren’t all that remarkable to someone else, but I looked forward to them: Waiting to meet you in the hall between classes and knowing that you’d always have a big smile on your face, no matter what might’ve just happened to you. Or knowing that you’d always have time to listen and sympathize.” He frowned. “Maybe that’s why this past month has hurt so much. I didn’t have any of that anymore, and I won’t have it anymore unless I can get you to listen to reason.”

“You mean--”

He seemed to rally and turned to her. “At graduation you said you didn’t want to return to Woodstock for personal reasons. I might be able to clear up those ‘personal reasons’ for you.” He opened his desk drawer and withdrew a piece of paper. “If all you’re wanting is a man in your life, I think I’ve found a solution to your problem and a face-saving way to keep you here as a teacher.” He favored her with a small, tight lipped smile. “We could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

He rustled the paper and Jean sat fascinated, wondering what he could possibly offer her that they hadn’t already discussed.

“I don’t blame you for your frustration. You seem to be able to attract men, but can’t hold onto them.”

Jean blinked. “Well, thank you!”

“Bear with me for a moment. You have to admit that your track record is none too good in the romance department.” He paused. “You won’t find it written in your contract under fringe benefits, but it will be a gentleman’s agreement between us. If you sign this teaching contract, I’ll sign a marriage contract. With you.”

Jean jumped to her feel, unable to believe what she’d heard. “You’ll, what?!”

“It’s a very practical solution, don’t you think? It’s high time we were both getting married, and at least it’d be to someone we each know. We like and respect each other and agree on most topics.” He grinned. “Except furniture styles, of course. And I could compromise on even that. After all, I wouldn’t be doing the dusting. And I believe that was your primary objection to Colonial or Early American. Well, what do you say?”

“I think you really might be crazy! Why should something like that appeal to me?! Surely even you should be able to realize that something is missing. Friendship can go only so far. What happened to the person who was so indignant when he thought I was disrespectful of marriage vows?”

“This is different.”

“How?! Just because it’s your idea, and not someone elses'?! For heaven’s sake, this is the rest of our lives we’re talking about here! Marriage is forever.”

“I know.”

“Then you should realize how crazy this is! How could it work? You aren’t exactly what I’d always looked for in a man, and I’m certainly not what you want in a wife. I couldn’t live up to your expectations. I’m not that perfect, or that docile. So go out and find a slab of rock to marry, because that’s the only thing that’s going to be the nice little robot you require. Sorry, I just don’t have the qualifications to fill that position, Mr. Cramer.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short.”

“And you don’t know what you’d be letting yourself in for. You’d never know what to expect out of me next. You should know me well enough to realize that.” Jean squared her shoulders. “But you wouldn’t regret it, either. Life with me would be hell, but it’d never be dull. It wouldn’t always be predictable, either, but I can guarantee it’d be interesting. Because, you see, I plan to make the man I marry feel very lucky that he chose me. I will treasure him and spoil him, and he will learn to love that kind of treatment. And he’d wonder how he’d ever lived any other way.”

“I don’t know why you’re getting so disturbed. I thought it was quite a reasonable idea.”

“Well, it isn’t! It’s downright unflattering. How desperate do you think I am to have a ‘man in my life?!’ How could you do this to me?! I thought we were friends. My friend is the person I’ve missed more than anybody this past month, simply because that’s as intimate as our relationship has ever gotten. Now you’ve gone and spoiled everything. And do you know what the real kicker about this whole situation is? A match between us wouldn’t have been so unusual. We would’ve been a natural. Other people thought so. They had us matched up a long time ago. In fact, everyone in the whole WORLD seemed to know about us, and wondered why we couldn’t EVER get it worked out . Why, I’ve even been approached by people who thought it was my civic duty to civilize you.”

“Who--”

“I’ll never tell, but you should be able to figure them out. Suffice it to say, it was people who love you and don’t want you to miss all the good things that life has to offer.”

“My brothers,” he grumbled. “It has to be my brothers. And maybe Elise.”

“And they’re right! Why are you fighting everyone so much? Why did you throw up a barrier between us? Did that kiss bother you that much? For heaven’s sakes, you don’t apologize for kissing someone! I enjoyed it, and I thought, I hoped, that you had, too. Why did you apologize so fast? Who knows? I might’ve wanted the second kiss. We might’ve had a much nicer spring. Even the night of the prom, we still had a chance. You were going to kiss me out on the dance floor, I just know it! Why did you leave?”

“To put an end to a ridiculous situation,” he mumbled.

“No, Bob. Something happened that you didn’t expect. You were trying to ‘teach me a lesson’ about the song, weren’t you? But I think you learned something yourself. Your ordered, little world was suddenly threatened by something you didn’t expect. And I think it scared you. You realized that you cared for me more than you wanted to admit, and you couldn’t face that.”

“You’re imagining things,” he mumbled again.

“Am I? It was wonderful being in your arms. I felt at home. I caught a glimpse of what could be.”

“So did I,” he admitted despite his frown. “And I guess I just didn’t feel comfortable with that. I felt out of control.”

“So you decided to turn me against you with this heartless ‘fringe benefit.’ You don’t really want anyone in your life, do you? You don’t want to have any real commitments, so you proposed this asexual arrangement with me. That way we could both be protected from the world. I thank you for thinking of me, but I’m not going to hide in a ‘safe’ marriage. I want to savor all the joys and sorrows of life, not be insulated from them. My husband will be a partner, not a buddy. I’m sorry you don’t trust me with your heart. I was getting too close, wasn’t I? So you used the school as an excuse to shove me away. Well, it’s working nicely. Maybe you really did think I was desperate enough to settle for a loveless marriage, but I’d have had enough pride not to go through with it. Not on those terms. People do not get married because it’s the ‘practical’ thing to do. They marry for love! But you apparently don’t know what love is.”

Cramer winced.

“If you did, you wouldn’t have made such a ridiculous proposition. There’s a lot of love in me for the right man, and I don’t intend to waste it on someone who doesn’t want it. Too bad. I could love you a lot, Bob Cramer. You’re a wonderful person. Any women would be lucky to get you. You have so much potential. But let me tell you something. If you did marry me, you’d be getting a woman, not just a teacher. I intend to make my husband happy. I intend to give him a reason to stay loyal to me. Maybe you think you’re above all that sort of thing, but I’m betting you might surprise yourself. I couldn’t have it any other way. I couldn’t live with any man, even you, as a friend.”

Cramer bit his lips together.

“Oh, Bob, an honest marriage isn’t all that bad. You might enjoy it. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You deserve the good things in life, too. Let someone love you. If not me, then someone else. I know I’m romantic and sentimental and foolish. I know that I look at the world through rose-colored glasses. So does my mother. And my practical father loves to shield her from the world. He wouldn’t have her any other way. I’m going out and find a man who’ll treat me just like my father treats my mother. I know he’s waiting for me, somewhere. And I hope you find the peace and quiet that you’re seeking. I think you’re going to succeed with your goal. No woman in her right mind would want to share your life. I hope you enjoy living by yourself.”

It took him a moment before he could speak. “And I hope you find that special someone,” he said in barely audible tones.

“I may, in time. But it will take time to get over this year and--” She frowned. “And everything, ah, else. I am that foolish.”

“Please,” he whispered. “Not foolish--”

“Yes, foolish.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

She squared her shoulders. “I’m a survivor, Mr. Cramer, despite the fact that you think I’m a frail, little wisp of a thing. I’ve learned a great deal this year, both professionally and personally. I only hope I’ve taught you a thing or two about being a person. I hope you use those lessons before it’s too late. As for me, thanks for the education. I think I’ve earned a degree from the school of hard knocks that you’re conducting. No curriculum has ever been more harshly taught or more thoroughly learned. As far as professional education goes, I hope I’m never in your teaching league. Your methods cut the heart right out of a person, yours included. Maybe that’s why I’ve never been able to reach you, even in friendship. You have no heart.”

She could tell she was hurting him by the stricken look on his face. But suddenly she didn’t care anymore. She frowned, and exhaustion seemed to take over her face.

“Frankly,” she continued, “right at the moment, I’m sick of the whole subject. And I’m sick of you. I just want to leave town and bury this year, and you, in the past.” She studied his lowered head. “Maybe I expected too much out of you. How could you love anyone else when you don’t even love yourself?”

He made a strangled sound that wasn’t even speech.

Her eyes swam with puddles of tears, but she firmly blinked them away. She didn’t have time for foolishness or weakness. “Learn to love yourself before it’s too late. You really aren’t such a bad person, and I hope you figure that out in time.” She placed her classroom key on his desk. “I’m signing out officially now. I won’t be back here tomorrow. There’s nothing else in this school that I want to keep. Look me up if you ever have more to offer than a couple of contracts.” She hooked her purse on her shoulder and moved toward the door. “Well, goodbye, Mr. Cramer. It’s been instructive.” She gazed at him a moment, then walked out of the office. 

She could feel his eyes on her, but he didn’t call her back as she walked down the hall and out of his life.

 

Jean was amazed at how easily she could lie to Craig when she called him later. Well, it wasn’t lying, but it wasn’t exactly telling the truth, either. She was aware of talking, but she had no real idea what she said to him. Craig seemed satisfied, though, and she realized that he was mainly concerned with her welfare. Had he known about her emotional state, he would’ve been highly solicitous. But she didn’t have the energy to explain the situation to him. Not tonight. Maybe next week. Maybe never.

A bitter lesson taught, a bitter lesson learned. She was wiser, but she doubted if Robert Cramer was. Maybe sadder, but no wiser.

What also surprised her was how calm she stayed. Her world had fallen apart and left her with a sour taste in her mouth, but she felt dead inside. 

Jean hoped that the cold anger consuming her would insulate and numb her through this final leave taking. If she was lucky, reality would not set in until she was far beyond Woodstock and Robert Cramer. What she would then do about the raw pain, she had no idea.

 

After tossing and turning half the night, Jean slept late the next morning. Then she moped around her apartment and told herself to get busy. She munched on nothing nutritious and didn’t care if all of her teeth rotted from the sugar in the empty calorie snacks she grabbed in passing. All that gained her was a dull headache and a stomach that was not contended. 

She knew that a healthy breakfast would restore her energy, but she was obstinate enough not to follow her own sound advice. She rubbed her temples while the low-grade headache hummed behind her eyeballs. At last, she downed a cup of strong coffee, and the caffeine perked her up enough to see to the necessary chores of her packing. She would not let herself think of her farewell with Cramer yesterday. That was in the past. Onward and upward.

The pep talk helped. And probably the caffeine from the coffee. Whatever it was, it finally got her moving in a productive manner. She started to organize and actually saw some progress.

“Here, Mrs. D. You might as well take these eggs and lunch meat and milk. They’d be spoiled by the time I got back home with them, anyway.”

“Thank you, dear. I’ll just pop them into the frig. What’s the matter?” she asked as she watched Jean close her eyes and rub the back of her neck. “Got a headache?”

“Yes,” Jean mumbled. “I guess this last week has been too emotional, what with graduation, a tornado, and everything else.”

“Why don’t you rest for a few minutes? You have all day to get home. I’m leaving shortly for Springfield, and you’ll be gone by the time I return. I’ve enjoyed having you in my home, my dear. Come visit me anytime. I do wish you were returning next year, but I realize that you’re anxious to move on. I wish you luck wherever you go.”

“Oh, Mrs. D., I’ll never forget you!” Jean embraced her. “You’ve been like a second mother to me.”

Mrs. Doubleday gave her a sweet smile. “And you’ve been like a daughter. Go on now and finish your packing. I’ll see you in a few weeks at your sister’s wedding. Oh, here’s my ride! Bye, now, dear!” And she was gone in a flurry of skirts and door banging.

Jean smiled thinly as she boxed a few books. Dear Mrs. Doubleday. She hated goodbyes, too.

Oh, bother, now who can that be? she thought after she heard the knock.

Jean smoothed her stretch pants and matching knit shirt, opened the door, and found Robert Cramer standing there, his eyes cautious and watchful.

“What do you want?” she asked in frosty tones. 

“May I speak with you, Miss Harnett?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I have nothing further to say to you, Mr. Cramer.”

His sad blue eyes pleaded earnestly with her. “May I come in? Please? For just a few minutes?”

She uncrossed her arms and stepped aside. “Oh, I suppose so. Come on in. I have to warn you, though. We’re not chaperoned. Mrs. Doubleday has left for the day. Aren’t you afraid someone will see you? I’m sure that Mrs. Braun across the street knows we’re alone.”

“I’m not worried about appearances,” he mumbled. He glanced at the scattered cardboard boxes bulging with books, school papers, and shoes. “I see you’re packing,” he said in ashen tones. “I realize you’re anxious to finish and start for home, so I won’t detain you very long.”

Jean folded a towel and threw it carelessly into a box. Then she remembered that it belonged to Mrs. D. and retrieved it. “Yes, I am anxious to be on my way.”

“I promise I won’t take too long.” He twisted his hat nervously in his hands and bit his lips together. “I don’t know how to say this. I’ve never been in this situation before. But I was wrong last evening, and I want to apologize. I didn’t realize that I couldn’t play with another person’s emotions, even if I did think it was in the best interests of the school or the people involved. I was wrong.”

“All right. You said what you came to say. Now you may leave.”

“Please. I also want to say, ah, goodbye. I’ll be glad to recommend you when you decide to relocate. Just contact me. I’ll write a letter of recommendation to your new, ah, principal.” 

“Well, thank you. That’s very decent of you. Considering. Well, you know.”

“It’s a professional courtesy. And you have been a good teacher.”

“Thank you. For that.” She turned back to her packing.

He bit his lips together. “I, ah, just want you to know that although we’ve had our little differences throughout the year, I’ll miss your friendship--”

She whirled on him. “Friendship?! What do you know about friendship?! You have to be a friend to have one! You’re still a principal talking to one of his teachers. Friendship is a lot more personal than that. And you have no idea what that entails!”

“You’re right, but you must understand. It’s difficult for me to be intimate. I don’t trust people as freely as I should. You’ve helped me to relate to my brothers, and I thank you for that. You’ve taught me a great deal about being a person.”

“Even if I’ve driven you crazy doing it?!”

“I shouldn’t have said that quite that way--”

“Why not?! If it’s the truth, why hide it?! Admit it! I’ve been a plague to you all year, and now I’m good riddance--”

“Oh, no! You misunderstood. Please--”

“Look! I’m leaving. I won’t embarrass you anymore. Be happy for that blessing! You can feel very safe here at Woodstock because I’ll never bother you again, and I doubt if anyone else ever will, either!”

“But--”

“I don’t want to hear another word! You’re rid of me! Just get out of here!”

“Please--”

She pointed at the door and forced the angry tears back into her eyes. “Out! Get out!”

Cramer stared at her blankly while the red color rose in his face. He bit his lips together in anger and slammed his hat on the table.

“You can darned well listen to what I have to say!”

“No, I don’t! You have no claim on my time anymore! I don’t have to wonder what I’ve done to cast you into a dark mood anymore. Just leave me alone! Get out!”

His eyes blazed. “Now, just a minute!”

“Then I’ll leave!”

Cramer grabbed for her arm, but she slipped past him. Jean raced for her car, reached for the door handle, and felt herself wrenched violently around.

“Let me go! The neighbors--”

Cramer grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “I don’t care about the neighbors!” He shook her once more and kept his grip on her shoulders. “Listen to me, you silly little idiot! I don’t care who sees us! The only one I care about is you!”

Jean stopped her struggling and stared at him.

“Listen to me! Sure, I asked you to marry me, but my real reason has nothing to do with teaching, or friendship. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t. I just can’t. I’ll agree to anything as long as you’ll stay here with me. You set the terms. I don’t care what they are, just so you’ll marry me. I just want you to be my wife. I can’t live without you in my world, Jean, or my heart. I love you.”

Jean blinked and her mouth dropped open. “You, what?!”

Cramer dropped his hands. “I didn’t intend to say it that way, but I didn’t get much sleep last night and I don’t feel very diplomatic.” Gone was the anger. Now, his tired eyes begged her to understand. “It’s no good, Jean. I couldn’t let you leave Woodstock without telling you how I really felt. You might have a good laugh about it later, but at least hear me out. I haven’t been the same since that night in the hotel room. Something happened to me that night to make me aware of what I’d been feeling for a long time. But I was too stubborn to admit it.” He rubbed his face. “Oh, I’m not saying this right.”

“Go on,” she said slowly, still staring at him and not quite believing what she was hearing. “You’re doing okay.”

“I know we tried several times to cut off our relationship, but something always drew us back together again. Then I made a determined effort and succeeded. Or so I thought. The senior trip about drove me crazy. Being near you at school was bad enough, but being away from you was horrible. It was a taste of what life would be without you, and I didn’t like it. I’ve been so lonesome for you since prom. I’ve missed talking to you and being with you. And from now on, I won’t even be seeing you anymore. I couldn’t face a future like that, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I called my brothers last night and told them what a mess I’d made of things. I couldn’t tell Mother. I needed another man to listen. No, I needed my BROTHERS.”

She smiled warmly. “I’m glad you called them.”

“I think they were, too.”

“You need to let people know you need them, Bob. Don’t shut them out. Make them feel they are important in your life.”

“That’s what I plan to do. Starting now.” He took a deep breath. “I’m taking a chance being here. You said to look you up if I ever had more to offer you than a couple of contracts. I wondered if you could possibly mean just me. My brothers encouraged me to approach you with nothing but myself as the prize. They are the reason I had the courage to show up here today.”

“Bless their little pointed heads,” she murmured.

“They wondered, though, what I had been using for brains. Jerry’s guess was mashed potatoes.”

Jean smiled. She could hear Jerry saying that.

“I’m sorry I insulted you with my proposal yesterday.”

“It wasn’t the proposal I objected to, but the way it was presented. You were doing just fine until you dug out that contract with that unique ‘fringe benefit.’ Am I that repulsive that that was the only way you could approach me with a marriage proposal?”

“It wasn’t you,” he choked out. “It was me. I thought I had so little to offer.”

“Boy, you sure sell yourself short, that’s all I can say.”

“Not anymore. I think I can even be truthful now.”

“About what?”

“Our kiss, for one thing. I didn’t want to let you know what it meant to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I was afraid it didn’t mean that much to you.”

“That makes me sound pretty shallow.”

“No, just busy. You had so many guys. Why would you notice me? But I had to try something to get you to stay, therefore the strange proposal. Anything to avoid my true feelings. I don’t know what I had in mind for us. Some sort of platonic relationship, I suppose. I don’t know why I thought either one of us would settle for that.”

She looked up at him. “What would you have said to me if you’d been truthful?”

“How much you’d become a part of my life this year and how much I enjoyed your company. I should have told you how jealous I was of Craig Martin and Brian Landis and my brothers and how much I envied them for the time you spent with them. I should’ve told you how proud I was to walk down the streets of Springfield with you on my arm and how lucky I felt when men gave you admiring glances.”

She smiled. “I would’ve loved to have heard all that.”

Cramer stared into Jean’s eyes and his voice deepened with seriousness. “I should’ve been telling you how much I enjoyed singing old songs together to take our minds off a menacing snow storm. Or holding you close at the prom while we danced to a song that I claimed didn’t mean a thing to us. Or kissing you to that same song and knowing that I lied at prom. And being haunted by that song this past month when I was aching to be with you. And hurting when I was, because I couldn’t tell you how I felt.”

A look of incredible shock crossed Jean’s face, and her mouth dropped open. She covered her mouth with her hand, then lowered it slightly. “Why, YOU’VE got a crush on ME!” She began to laugh.

Deflated, Cramer turned away with his head down. “Don’t laugh. At least, wait until I leave. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

She grabbed his arm, his good arm. “Wait! Don’t leave. I’m not laughing at you. If only you knew! Oh, sweetheart, don’t go! Wait!”

His eyes lit up. “Sweetheart?”

If only she could control her laughter! But it was so insane. All this time--

“Bob, please.”

He was fighting a shy grin. “You called me ‘sweetheart.’”

“And I meant it,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “If only you knew what torture I’ve been going through ever since prom. I thought of ten thousand reasons why you’d suddenly become indifferent to me, but I never once considered that you were having the same problem that I was. This is really crazy! Bob, we’re worse than a couple of love-struck teenagers.”

“The same problem? Are you saying you like me, too?” His grin was threatening to get out of hand.

Jean arched an eyebrow. “Like is an awfully weak word.” She socked him lightly on his good arm. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth before now?”

“With all those other guys beating my time? I couldn’t. I didn’t dare. There’d been all those other guys, and I had no idea when another one would show up and make me look like a fool. How did I stand a chance?”

“Why didn’t you ask?”

“I had to protect myself. How would you know I was even in contention?”

She looked at him levelly. “Ask now.”

He drew her toward him. “I’m asking. Do I have a chance?”

She searched his anxious blue eyes. “As far as I can tell, you’re the only one standing in line, buster. What’s holding you back now?”

For an amateur, he sure knew a lot about kissing. She didn’t question how he knew, but just chalked it up to natural talent. He seemed too happy to question her about anything except her feelings about him. And then she had to confess her schoolgirl crush on the unattainable principal, who proved not to be so unattainable, after all.

“Did you really?” he asked with the shy grin she decided she was going to like. “You really had a crush on me?”

She nodded quickly. Suddenly, she couldn’t talk for the tears in her throat.

He frowned. “You aren’t going to start crying, are you?”

She nodded quickly again as the tears brimming in her eyes began to spill over. He pulled his arms around her to comfort her, and that brought on fresh volleys of tears.

“Aren’t you happy, sweetheart?” he asked, trying out the word. He liked the way it felt on his tongue. He hoped she liked hearing it as much as she did.

She drew back and tried to smile at him. “If I get any happier, I’m going to shrink your shirt.” She twisted his shirt lapel. “I’m sorry I’m so weepy. I’m sorry I’m so dingy.”

“I’m not. Don’t ever change. That’s what I fell in love with.”

Her eyes widened. “I know I’m never going to get used to hearing you say that.” She leaned toward him to get kissed, and he happily complied.

“I must’ve been part crazy,” he said as he held her. “I should have never said such thoughtless things to you. It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. You were right to call me inhuman.”

She raised her head off his shoulder. “No, Bob, you were being very human last evening.” She raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t very kind, though.”

“You think I hurt you last night? Well, I hurt myself worse. I knew I’d lost you, and no wonder. About four this morning, I finally admitted to myself what you really mean to me. And I had to tell you, even if I had to crawl to you. I’m not proud anymore, Jean, or arrogant. Without you, I’m nothing. Please take pity on a stupid idiot. Please give me the chance at happiness I wasn’t going to give us.”

“Oh, why didn’t you realize all this before?” She brushed her hand lightly across his cheek. “Of course, I’ll marry you. Tomorrow, if you want. I love you that much.” She smiled up at him. “Smile a little, won’t you? Stop looking like you’re going to cry.”

“I thought you wouldn’t listen.” he whispered. “There was no reason why you should have.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you, mister. Not now.” She searched his eyes that were misted with tears. “Do you know how special you are making me feel? I’ve never had a man cry over me before.”

“I’m not crying!” he blustered.

“Of course not,” she murmured. “But if you ever trust me enough to cry in front of me, I’ll put my arms around you, like this. And I’ll comfort you, like this. And I’ll feel so proud that I’m that special to you.” She gave him a tender smile. “I love you that much, too.” She lay her head on his shoulder and was very still. She felt a shudder go through his body and drew her arms around his shoulders. “Trust me, darling. Let me love you. You won’t be sorry.” And then she simply held him until his sobs of exhaustion and thanksgiving gradually eased.

It became reality to him that she wasn’t leaving. He could feel her body in the circle of his arms and her temple beneath his lips. She loved him, really loved him, and she would be his wife. As realization slowly broke over him, Cramer felt his frozen heart melt and Jean’s happiness and contentment flowed into him. How wonderful Life was going to be!

“Jean. Jean.”

He said no more, but she understood. He did not know the words yet, but he really didn’t need them. For now, there was something between them that was stronger than words, that went beyond words.

Robert Cramer was coming out of his prison, the prison where he had placed himself, and Jean was waiting for him. They stood in their embrace a long time, and then Cramer looked into Jean’s eyes. His tired face relaxed into a weary grin. “I know this isn’t a very romantic proposal, but none could be more sincere. Please believe that I really want you to be my wife. Please teach me to deserve you.”

“Oh, darling,” she lisped. Huge tears rolled down her cheeks. “Nothing has ever sounded so beautiful to me. Of course, I‘ll marry you!”

“I can’t believe that you’d still have me.”

She arched her eyebrow at him. “It might be just a sneaky way to get teachers!”

He grinned sheepishly. “It worked, didn’t it?”

She shook his arm. “You scoundrel! You better be teasing! And you better not recruit any other teachers this way.”

“This type of recruiting comes only once in a lifetime. I don’t care if you ever teach school again, just you’re someplace close so I can see you and talk to you and laugh with you whenever I want. I’ve missed your companionship. I want to be wherever you are. I don‘t even care where that is, just as long as we‘re together.”

“I’ll agree to anything, just so you won’t forget my name anymore.”

“Really?” He grinned. “I did that?”

“All the time! All I heard was ‘Miss, ah, Harnett.’ I started to think my name was Ah, Harnett.”

“I can’t imagine why I did that. Unless you had me in a tailspin already and I didn’t even realize it. Ah, Harnett, eh?” He sobered. “And now it can be Mrs., Ah, Cramer, because I’ll be thinking Jean, Jean, darling Jean, even when I can’t say it out loud.”

“The fringe benefits are sounding better all the time. Mrs., Ah, Cramer, school marm.”

“I didn’t mean to lose my temper, but I was at my wits’ end.” His eyes twinkled. “My big brother has a theory about my temper, and who I lose it around.”

Her eyes twinkled back. “I know. It’s what really convinced me that you were sincere. That, and your words--” She blushed. “--and your wonderful kiss, of course.”

That statement called for another affirmation of their declarations and intentions, and they both came out of that kiss slightly breathless.

“Oh, Miss Harnett, I think I’m ready for your non-platonic marriage!”

Jean giggled. “You’re incorrigible!”

He winked at her. “I certainly hope so.” Then he stole a kiss.

“We really should get off the street if we’re going to continue such shocking behavior,” she murmured. “And I, for one, intend to keep up with my wanton advances. Heaven only knows what the neighbors will say.”

“How prudish!” he chided, but his grin said that he was only teasing. “You’re going to have to loosen up a little, Miss Harnett.”

She eyed him skeptically. “I think I’ve become a bad influence on you.”

“You have been for a long time,” he said lightly, then sobered. “The only difference is that from now on I won’t be fighting it. From now on, I’ll be looking at you in awed adoration. And that, young lady, will be my purest thoughts,” he said with a low huskiness in his voice. He grinned at her blush. “You’re awfully cute when you do that.”

“And you’ve loosened up quite a lot, Mr. Cramer.”

“Overnight. Believe me, overnight. I’ve never had such a solid chunk of realism shoved in my face like what you gave me last night. And one of the things that bothered me the most was that I had crushed your spirit. I’m happy to see that you’re still as dizzy and dingy as ever today.”

She tilted her head at him. “That’s a compliment. I hope.”

He laughed. “It is.” Then he sobered. “Don’t ever change, Jean. I want to feel as lucky as your father does. Keep me on my toes. Mess up my too ordered life so that I’m tearing out what little hair I have left. Keep me from getting fossilized. Keep me guessing about you every minute of the day. But, most importantly, keep me in your heart.” He rubbed her arms. “I can’t do without you in my life, Jean, and I hope you’ll always feel that way about me, too,” he said in a husky voice.

“I will,” she promised with a soft murmur.

They stared into each others’ eyes, made other, unspoken vows to each other, then slowly began to grin with happiness. They melted into each other’s arms and hung loosely together.

“Well, does it sound okay to you, then?” he asked. “Are you willing to sign that teaching contract now? And are we officially engaged?”

“I would say yes to both of those offers,” she murmured happily and snuggled against his shoulder. “If you take a verbal commitment as being binding, that is.”

“I do.”

“That’s wonderful, Miss, ah, ah--” he said, distracted by her closeness.

“Harnett, dear. Harnett.”

“No, dear,” he said, at last in focus. “Cramer.” He brought his head up. “Did you see that car? It passed us and almost didn’t make the corner. Was that Sandy Kane?”

“Yes,” Jean answered with a giggle. “And it’s no wonder he almost piled up his car. He just witnessed quite a spectacle: the principal and the English teacher in a tight clinch in Mrs. Doubleday’s front yard. He’ll have the news all over Woodstock in ten minutes.”

Cramer arched an eyebrow. “Good. It’ll save us the trouble of spreading the word ourselves.” He threw his head back with a laugh, then locked Jean in a fierce bear hug and whirled her off her feet as she screamed in delight. “Mr. Cramer and Miss Harnett are in love!” he shouted. “And they want the whole world to know it!”

Jean laughed and hung on for dear life, for this man was the dearest life she would ever encounter. And thank Heaven, he felt the same way about her.

Back on her feet, Jean said, “Your mother! We have to tell your mother.”

“And YOUR mother! And your father, too.” He nodded across the street. “Mrs. Braun already knows, so she’ll inform the people whom Sandy Kane misses.”

With a laugh and their arms around each other, they ran back to Jean’s apartment.

 

“Mama? Listen. This is Jean. I’ve been delayed. I don’t know when I’ll be home. No, nothing’s wrong.” She shot Cramer a wide grin. “Everything’s right! Oh, Mama,” she murmured. “I’m in love. Yes. Yes! Isn’t it great? Isn’t it wonderful? He’s wonderful. Daddy knows who. You’ve met him, too.” She giggled with her delight, then blinked. “No, we’re not! We’re sober as judges! Honest. He’s the one, Mama. I couldn’t be surer. That’s why the others weren’t quite right. Oh, you’re right, Mama! The heart always knows. How did you know to say something like that? What? Oh, Mama. Mama.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she put her free hand over her mouth. She looked at Cramer while she listened to her suddenly wise mother. Jean’s hand holding the phone began to tremble. 

Cramer took the phone from her. “Hello, Mrs. Harnett. Jean’s overcome, and I don’t know how long I’ll last. This is Bob Cramer, the guy who is the newest fiance on the planet.” He smiled at Jean, then concentrated on her mother. “No, neither one of them. Their brother. The lucky one. The smart one. The one who finally got smart. The crazy one who called you yesterday? Yes, you’re right. Yes, I know it’s confusing. You should be on this end. Just now. Just a few minutes ago, in fact. We’ve known each other for months, but-- Yes. You’re right. A couple of blind idiots who’ve wasted valuable time. I couldn’t agree more. Yes, we could’ve had a much nicer Spring; yes, I know.” He grinned. “I have heard that one before. But it’s for forever, Mrs. Harnett. I can guarantee it. I never want to be far away from her again. What? Yes, you have met me, Mrs. Harnett. The guy at the boys’ bathroom, yes. I gave you the tour of the schoolhouse, yes. No, ma’am, I am not middle-aged. I just looked that way. Then.” He grinned at Jean. “I’m much younger now, and it’s all because of her. No, ma’am, you wouldn’t know me now. She’s changed me that much.” He winked at Jean. “And I’m not changing back.”

Jean laughed, then had to choke back more tears.

 

Alida Cramer glanced up from the kitchen table as the back door burst open. Bob and Jean ran in, holding hands. Their faces were flushed and covered with huge smiles.

“What the--”

“Mother, congratulate us! We’re engaged!”

Alida pushed her chair back and stood. “Engaged? To be MARRIED? You two? To each other? Are you sure you haven’t been drinking?”

Bob grinned. “That’s what Jean’s mother asked, too!”

“Well, it’s understandable,” Alida muttered. She walked around the table and faced them. “Is this all really true?”

They beamed at her and nodded their heads.

“I wanted Jean in the family, but--” She looked at Jean. “Are you sure, Jean? Is it this one? He’s moody and obstinate. I don’t want you to take on too great a challenge.”

“Mother! I’m still in the room.”

“I’m sure, Mrs. Cramer. The other two needed me, but not as much as this one does. And I need him so much.” Jean glanced at him. “He’s so vulnerable. Someone needs to protect him. But there’s so much potential in him, and we’ve become good friends. I’ve missed him so much in these last few weeks that we’ve been apart. And I don’t want that to happen, ever again.”

Cramer gave her a quick hug.

“Our forced separation was foolish and it was all because of our pride,” Jean continued. “But it was necessary, I suppose. It showed us how empty life would be without each other. He can be so stubborn.”

“Me?!” He thought back over the days when he’d fought the simple truth that he loved Jean. “Well, okay. I concede. This time.”

“That’s better.” She turned back to Alida. “Yes, he will be a challenge, but maybe you can give me some pointers on how to handle him.”

“Jean! I’m still in the room.”

“We’ll take care of that in short order. You’re exhausted. You need to go lie down now and take a nap. We‘ll awaken you when you‘re needed again.”

“Yes, dear,” he murmured with a soft smile. He was going to love taking orders from her.

Alida had finally recovered enough to realize that their news was really true. “I couldn’t be happier, Jean. I feel so comfortable with you.” She hugged Jean, then turned to Bob. “Thank goodness you didn’t let her get away. I’m so happy for you, Bob. She’s a special person for a special son. And you are special, Bob, just in case I’ve never told you that. You’re the one I rely on.” She hugged him.

Alida Cramer was not by nature a hugger, and her embrace first startled, then overwhelmed her son. That gesture, plus her words, completely dissolved him. For the second time that morning, Bob Cramer wept in the arms of a woman he loved.

Alida allowed him to mop himself up while she turned to Jean. “Sit down and tell me what happened, my dear.”

“I will, but Bob needs to rest,” Jean said as she sat beside Alida at the kitchen table. “He didn’t sleep well last night.” She glanced back at him. “Honey, why don’t you let the ladies have a nice visit together?”

He gave her a weary smile. “Gladly.” Exhaustion seemed to be turning the whole world dark around him. As happy as he was, all he wanted at the moment was to close his burning eyes and sink into a dreamless sleep. 

Jean turned to Alida. “It was all was a wonderful surprise.”

As he passed behind Jean’s chair, Bob dropped his hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t go too far,” she said as she looked up at him and covered his hand with her own.

“Never again,” he promised. “Just the living room sofa.” He bent, kissed her forehead, and left.

“I don’t think I’d ever get used to that,” Jean said to Alida.

“I never did. His father used to do the same thing to me. I think that’s what I miss most about his absence.” She brought herself out of her reverie. “My dear, what a priceless gift you’ve given to Bob. He hasn’t wept like that since he was two-and-a-half years old. You’re drawing him out of whatever self-imposed shell he once condemned himself. His brothers and I have been at a loss as to how to help him. Our prayers for him have now been answered.”

“And I like to think that I’ve been blessed to receive him into my life.”

“Oh, you have been, Jean. I think he’d be very good to his wife. You are a very lucky young woman.” She smiled gently. “And Bob is a very, very lucky young man.”

 

Later, talked out, Jean was starting to come down from the morning high and felt tired herself. Alida sent her into the living room while she fixed lunch. Jean went gladly. She was missing Bob.

Once again, she found him sprawled, exhausted, on the sofa. Once again, Jean retrieved his horn-rimmed glasses and placed them on the cocktail table. Once again, she studied him as he lay vulnerable to the world. But this time, her heart swelled with the love for him that she’d finally recognized and that he had finally accepted.

Jean knelt down on her knees and gently touched his face. She wanted so desperately to be near him and to protect him.

“Bob. It’s Jean. Lunch is nearly ready. It’s macaroni and cheese with tomatoes. Your mother said it was one of your favorites. She told me so many things about you, but I have so many things to learn. But there’s only one thing that’s important. I love you, sweetheart.” Her eyes studied the familiar lines of his face. “I love you, sweetheart. It’s been a whole two hours since I had a chance to tell you that wonderful fact.”

She leaned against his chest, and he turned away from the irritation to his sleep.

She stroked his cheek. “Let me in, Bob.”

He stirred, partially awake, recognizing her voice and wanting to answer, but unable to comply. He was still that much asleep. Although he didn’t have the strength to open his eyes, a gentle smile curved along his lips. He knew that Jean was with him.

She didn’t see his smile because she had lain her cheek against his chest. “Please, sweetheart,” she begged. “Don’t shut me out.”

“Never again,” he finally managed to murmur.

She raised her head, saw his faint smile, leaned forward, and kissed him. “I’m so happy,” she whispered.

“Me, too,” he mumbled, almost incoherently, then cleared his throat. “You wait until I wake up good,” he said more distinctly. “We’ll make up for lost time.”

“Talk’s cheap, Mister,” she said with a grin. “You have to prove it.”

Cramer opened his eyes. “I’ll try, but it’ll take a lifetime.”

“I’m game,” she murmured. She drew a line around his mouth with her fingertip. “By the way, why aren’t you at school?”

“I had something important to do.”

“What could be more important than your loyalty to Woodstock High?” she teased.

“Winning the hand of the woman I love,” he said in a serious voice. “Am I expelled?”

“Nope. Sounds like a good excuse to me. You won’t even have to stay in detention study hall.”

“Darn,” he said softly. “I thought if the English teacher was conducting it, I’d get to spend some time alone with her.”

“And do what?” she teased.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “Something outrageous, like stealing a kiss from her. Just as soon as I finish this nap. Until then--” With a smile, he pulled his arms around her, sighed in contentment, and fell back asleep. The smile stayed on his face.

Jean studied him in amusement. “Yeah, sure, big talk. Just look at you now.” Her eyes flicked over the face she wanted to see this close up for the rest of her life. “Just look at how helpless you are without me. Keep on needing me, Mister, and we’ll get along just fine.” She snuggled against his chest and closed her eyes, too. 

That’s how Alida found them a few minutes later when she went in to call them to lunch. How peaceful Bob looked compared to the haggard, listless man who’d pecked at his breakfast that morning. He must be starving by now.

Alida had fixed one of his favorite meals for lunch. The last time Jean had eaten here, they’d had pizza, a favorite of Jean’s, so it was only fair that Bob had his turn. A mother had to be careful and not play favorites with her children.

Alida tiptoed away. Lunch could wait. There was something far more important to Bob right now than food, and she lay, well established, in the protecting circle of his arms.

Twenty minutes later, Bob awoke and found Jean draped across his chest. “Jean. Wake up, Jean.”

She stirred. “Hmm?”

“Let me up, Jean.”

“Okay,” she mumbled and leaned back on her heels.

Bob sat up on the couch and pulled her up to sit beside him. “Are you awake?”

“Oh, yeah,” she mumbled. “Awake. That’s what I am. Awake.”

He leaned toward her and gave her a long kiss.

“Oh, yeah, now I am,” she said with a big smile.

“It’s delicious kissing you when you’re half-asleep. I’ll have to remember to do that a lot.”

She blushed. “You’re scandalous!”

“I’m allowed. I’m in love.”

“Craig is going to be so surprised by this development. So is Brian. But they knew something was wrong between us. And now it’s all so right.”

“I sure messed things up yesterday. I guess that means I’ll have to take you out to dinner to apologize again.”

“Why don’t we just eat out to celebrate our engagement? Otherwise, you’re never going to get ahead of the game. All you ever seem to do is apologize.”

“That’s because you have me in a tailspin. I don’t care why we go out, just so we’re together.”

“I couldn’t have said it better.” She nestled her head on his shoulder. “I’m going to love being married to you. Just think of the wonderful memories that we already share, and there’ll be more in the future. Even the rough moments we’ve known together don’t seem so bad now, and eventually we’ll be able to laugh about them.” She sighed. “I’ve dreamed about my wedding day ever since I was a little girl, you know.”

“You plan the wedding. My mind’s already on the honeymoon.“

“Oh, you!“ She socked him lightly on his good arm.

“I even know of a good spot for the honeymoon,” he informed her.

She raised her head. “Oh? Where?”

“Where else? The honeymoon suite at the Springfield Hotel.” He grinned. “I love it when you blush like that.”

“Bring along two T-shirts, and you’ve got a deal.”

“We got along just fine last time with only one.”

“You’re right. One might be more fun.” She raised an eyebrow. “Now, who’s blushing?”

His eyes looked intense as he squeezed her hand. “How would you like to elope? Tonight?” he asked in a husky voice.

A playful grin crossed her face. “This from the guy who wanted only a platonic relationship for us? What happened to him?”

“That fool doesn’t exist anymore.” He gave her a questioning look. “Well, how about it? The only person I really need at my wedding is you.”

“Oh, Bob, I feel the same way,” she said seriously. “But we owe it to our families to have a formal wedding with everybody there to help us celebrate.”

“We owe it to ourselves, too,” he said, just as seriously. “I want everything to be just perfect for us, Jean.”

“And it will be,” she murmured as she nestled against his shoulder again. “I can’t wait to start making plans.”

Something like apprehension clutched at Cramer’s heart. Who could foretell what disasters would occur around their wedding day if Jean was in charge?

Cramer grinned and relaxed. What difference did it make as long as Jean became his bride? Besides, who wanted a boring wedding, anyway? 

It might even be fun!

The door to the kitchen opened. “Oh, you’re awake,” Alida said. “Are you ready to eat now?”

“In a few minutes, Mother,” Cramer answered.

Alida turned back to the kitchen. “If you two aren’t out here in five minutes, I’m throwing it in the trash.”

“Yes, Mother,” Cramer and Jean answered in unison, then looked at each other and began to laugh.

Alida shook her head. “Children!” she mumbled, then felt a contented smile cross her face as she walked back into the kitchen. 

Jean was going to fit right into this family just fine.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> This work is not biography, but it is based on fact and occurred in a gentler, more innocent time.


End file.
